LETTERS  OF  A  TRAVELLER; 


OB, 


NOTES   OF    THINGS 


EUROPE    AND    AMERICA, 


BY  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

SECOND     EDITION. 

NEW  YORK. 

GEORGE  P.  PUTNAM,  156  BROADWAY, 

LONDON:   RICHARD  BENTLEY. 
1850. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1850, 

BY  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT, 

In  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States,  for  the  Southern  District 
of  New  York. 


BILLIN     <t    BROS., 
10  N.  WILL1AM-ST. 


F.    C.    GUTIERREZ, 
PRINTER, 

John  st.,  corner  of  Dutch. 


G- 

470 


1X50 


TO  THE  EEADEE. 


THE  letters  composing  this  volume  were  written 
at  various  times,  during  the  last  sixteen  years,  and 
during  journeys  made  in  different  countries.  They 
contain,  however,  no  regular  account  of  any  tour 
or  journey  made  by  the  writer,  but  are  merely  occa- 
sional sketches  of  what  most  attracted  his  attention. 
The  greater  part  of  them  have  already  appeared  in 
print. 

The  author  is  sensible  that  the  highest  merit  such 
a  work  can  claim,  if  ever  so  well  executed,  is  but 
slight.  He  might  have  made  these  letters  more  in- 
teresting to  readers  in  general,  if  he  had  spoken  of 
distinguished  men  to  whose  society  he  was  admitted; 
but  the  limits  within  which  this  may  be  done,  with 


4  TCK  THE     READER. 

propriety  and  without  offense,  are  so  narrow,  and 
so  easily  overstepped,  that  he  has  preferred  to  abstain 
altogether  from  that  class  of  topics.  He  offers  his 
book  to  the  public,  with  expectations  which  arili  l/« 
satisfied  by  a  very  moderate  success. 

NEW  YORK,  April,  1850. 


CONTENTS. 


10  THE  Rt 


LETTER  1.— First  Impressions  of  an  American  in  France.— Tokens  of  An- 
tiquity: churches,  old  towns,  cottages,  colleges,  costumes,  donkeys,  shep- 
herds and  their  flocks,  magpies,  chateaux,  formal  gardens,  vineyards, 
fig-trees.— First  Sight  of  Paris;  its  Gothic  churches,  statues,  triumphal 
arches,  monumental  columns. — Parisian  gaiety,  public  cemeteries,  burial 
places  of  the  poor 9 

LETTER  II.— Journey  from  Paris  to  Florence.— Serenity  of  the  Italian  Climate. 
— Dreary  country  between  Paris  and  Chalons  on  the  Saone. — Autun. — Cha- 
lons.— I  .yons. — Valley  of  the  Rhine. — Avignon. — Marseilles  ;  its  growth  and 
prosperity. — Banking  in  France. — Journey  along  the  Mediterranean. — 
American  and  European  Institutions 15 

LETTER  III. — Tuscan  Scenery  and  Climate.— Florence  in  Autumn. — Defor- 
mities of  Cultivation.— Exhibition  of  the  Academy  of  the  Fine  Arts.— Re- 
spect ofthe  Italians  for  Works  of  Art 24 

LETTER  IV.— A  Day  in  Florence.— Bustle  and  Animation  ofthe  Place.— Sights 
seen  on  the  Bridges. — Morning  in  Florence. — Brethren  of  Mercy. — Drive  on 
the  Cascine.— Evening  in  Florence. — Anecdote  of  the  Passport  System. 
—Mildness  of  tlie  Climate  of  Pisa 29 

LETTER  V.— Practices  of  the  Italian  Courts.— Mildness  of  the  Penal  Code  in 
Tuscany. — A  Royal  Murderer. — Ceremonies  on  the  Birth  of  an  Heir  to  the 
Dukedom  of  Tuscany.— Wealth  of  the  Grand  Duke 37 

LETTER  VI.— Venice.— Its  peculiar  Architecture.— Arsenal  and  Navy  Yard. 
—The  Lagoons. — Ceneda.— Serravalle.— Lago  Morto. — Alpine  Scenery. — A 
June  Snow  Storm  in  the  Tyrol.— Splendor  of  the  Scenery  in  the  Sunshine. 
— Lamlro.— A  Tyrolese  Holiday.— Devotional  Character  of  the  People.— 
Nunioro  is  Chapels. — Sterzing. —  Bruneck.— The  Brenner. — Innsbruck. — 
Bronze  Tomb  01'  Maximilian  I. — Entrance  into  Bavaria 42 

LETTER  VII. — An  Excursion  to  Rock  River  in  Illinois. — Birds  and  Quadru- 
peds of  the  Prairies.— Dad  Joe's  Grove.— Beautiful  Landscape.— Traces  of 
the  Indian  Tribes.— Lost  Rocks.— Dixon.— Rock  River ;  beauty  of  its  banks. 
—A  Horse-Thief.— An  Association  of  Felons. — A  Prairie  Rattlesnake. — The 
Prairie- Wolf ;  its  habits.— The  Wild  Parsnip 55 

LETTER  VIII.— Examples  of  Lynch  Law.— Practices  of  Horse-Thieves  in  Il- 
linois.— Regulators. — A  Murder.— Seizure  of  the  Assassins,  their  trial  and 
execution.— One  of  the  Accomplices  lurking  in  the  Woods.— Another 
Horse-Thief  shot....  ..  64 


0  C  O  N  T  E  N  T  S. 

PAGE 

LETTER  IX. — An  Example  of  Senatorial  Decorum.— The  National  Museum 
at  Washington.— Mount  Vernon.— Virginia  Plantations.— Beauty  of  Rich- 
mond.—Islands  of  James  Kiver.— An  Old  Churdi.— Inspection  olTobacco.— 
Tobacco  Factory.— Work  and  Psalmody.— Ho-.v  Jim's  Statue  of  Washington.  69 

LETTER  X.— .Tourney  from  Richmond  to  Charleston.— Pino  Forests  of  Norili 
Carolina.— Collection  of  Turpentine. — Harbor  of  Charleston. — Aspect  of 
the  City 77 

LETTER  XI.— Interior  of  South  Carolina.— Pine  Woods.— Plantations.— 
Swamps. — Birds. — A  Con>-Sluidiiii'_r. — Negro  Sony's.— A  .N'cicro  Military 
Parade.— Character  of  the  Blacks.— Winter  Climate  of  South  Carolina 82 

LETTER  XII.— Picolata.— Beauty  of  the  Season.— The  St.  John's.— A  Ham- 
mock.— Voyage  from  Charleston  to  Savannah.— City  of  Savannah. —Quoit 
Club.— A  Negro  Burial-Place.— Curious  Epitaphs.— Bonaveuture.— Majestic 
Avenues  of  Live-Oaks.— Alligators.— Black  Creek 90 

LETTER  XIII.— Woods  of  Florida.— Anecdotes  of  the  Florida  War.— Aspect 
of  St.  Augustine. — Its  Streets. — Former  Appearance  of  the  City.— <  iran_re 
Groves.— Fort  of  St.  Mark.— Palm  Sunday.— A  Frenchman  preaching  in 
Spanish 99 

LETTER  XIV.— Climate  of  St.  Augustine.— Tampa  Bay.— Melons  in  January. 
—Insects  in  Southern  Florida.— Healthfulness  of  Kast  Florida.— A  Sugar 
Plantation. — Island  of  St.  Anastasia.— Quarries  of  Shell-Hock. — Customs  of 
the  Mahonese. — A  Mahonese  or  Minorcan  hymn 100 

LETTER  XV.— Florida  the  "Poor  Man's  Country."— Hettlement  of  the  Penin- 
sula.—The  Indian  War.— Its  Causes.— Causes  of  (he  Peace.— The  Ever- 
glades.—St.  Mary's  in  Georgia.— Plague  of  Sand-Flies.— Alligator  Shooting. 
— Tobacco  Chewing 121 

LETTER  XVI.— The  Champlain  Canal.— Beauty  of  its  Banks.— Whitehall.— 
Canadian  French.— A  Family  setting  out  for  the  West.— The  .Michigan 
Lay.— Vermont  Scenery 128 

LETTER  XVII. — Grasshoppers. — White  Clover.— Domestic  Arrangements  of 
two  unmarried  Ladies.— Canadian  French  Laborers.— Quakers.  —  A  Pretty 
Mantua-Maker. — Anecdote  told  by  a  Quakeress.— Walpole. — Keene.— A 
Family  of  healthy  young  Women 134 

LETTER  XVIII.— A  Voyage  to  Liverpool.— Mountains  of  Wales.— Growth  of 
Liverpool.— Aspect  of  the  Place.— /oological  C;irdens. --.Cemetery  among 
the  Rocks.— Ornamental  Cultivation.— Prince's  P.irk.-- - ( 'hester.— Manches- 
ter.—Calico  Printing 1-1-1 

LETTER  XIX.— Edale  in  Derbyshire.— A  Commercial  Traveller.— Chapel-en- 
le-Frith.— The  Winnets.— Mam  Tor.— Heathy  Hills.— The  Lark.— Caverns 
of  the  Peak  of  Derbyshire. — Castle  of  the  Peverils. — People  of  Derbyshire. 
— Matlock.— Derby.". 154 

LETTER  XX. — Works  of  Art.— Power's  Greek  Slave.— Exhibition  of  the 
lloyal  Academy.— Turner's  late  Pictures.— Webster.— Thorbarn.— New 
Houses  of  Parliament.— Artists  in  Water-Colors Hi  1 

LETTER  XXI.— The  Parks  of  London. -Their  Extent.— Want  of  Parks  in  New 
York. — Sweeping  of  the  Streets. — Safety  from  Hotisebreaking.— Beggars. 
— Increase  of  Poverty 108 


LETTER  XXII— Edinburg.— The  Old  Town.— The  Castle.— Solid  Architec- 
ture of  the  New  Town. — Views  from  the  different  Eminences.— Poverty  in 
the  Wynds  and  Alleys.— Houses  of  Refuge  for  the  Destitute.— Xi-ht  \s\- 
lums  for  the  Houseless.— The  Free  Church.— The  Maynooth  Grant.— Effect 
of  Endowments  ...  ...  174 


CONTENTS.  / 

PAGE 

LETTER  XXUL— FIshwomen  of  Xewhaven.— Frith  of  Forth.— Stirling.— 
Callander.— The  Trosachs. — Locli  Achray. — Loch  Katrine. — Loch  Lomond. 
— Glenfalloch.— Dumbarton.— The  Leven 181 

LETTER  XXIV.— Glasgow.— Its  Annual  Fair.— Its  Public  Statues.— The  Free 
Church.— Free  Church  College.— Odd  Subject  of  a  Sermon.— Alloway.— 
Burns's  Monument. — The  Doon. — The  Sea. — Burns's  Birthplace. — The 
River  Ayr 191 

LETTER  XXV. — Voyage  to  Ireland. — Ailsa  Craig. — County  of  Down. — County 
of  Lowth.— Difference  in  the  Appearance  of  the  Inhabitants.— Peat-Diggers. 
—A  Park.— Samples  of  different  Races  of  Men.— Round  Towers.— Valley 
of  the  Boyne.— Dublin.— Its  Parks.— O'Connell.— The  Repeal  Question.— 
Wall,  the  Artist.— Exhibition  of  the  Royal  Hibernian  Society 200 

LETTER  XXVI.— Lunatic  Asylum  at  Hanwell.— Humanity  and  Skill.— Quiet 
Demeanor  of  the  Patients. — Anecdotes  of  the  Inmates.— The  Corn-law 
Question.— Coleman's  Improvement  on  the  Piano 210 

LETTER  XXVII. — Changes  in  Paris. — Asphaltum  Parements. — New  and 
Showy  Buildings. — Suppression  of  Gaming-Houses.— Sunday  Amusements. 
— Physical  Degeneracy. — Vanderlyu's  Picture  of  the  Landing  of  Columbus  219 

LETTER  XXVIII.— A  Journey  through  the  Netherlands.— Brussels.— Water- 
loo.— Walloons  and  Flemings. — Antwerp. — Character  of  Flemish  Art.— 
The  Scheldt. — Rotterdam. — Country  of  Holland. — The  Hague. — Scheveling. 
—Amsterdam.— Broek  Saardam.— Utrecht 223 

LETTER  XXIX. — American  Artists  abroad. — Diisseldorf :  Leutze. — German 
Painters.— Florence :  Greenough,  Powers,  Gray,  G.  L.  Brown.— Rome : 
H.  K.  Brown,  Rossiter,  Lang 234 

LETTER  XXX.-Buffalo.— The  New  Fort.— Leopold  de  Meyer.-Cleveland. 
—Detroit 241 

LETTER  XXXI.— Trip  from  Detroit  to  Mackinaw.— The  Chippewa  Tribe.— 
The  River  St.  Clair.— Anecdote.— Chippewa  Village.— Forts  Huron  and 
Saranac.— Bob  Low  Island.— Mackinaw 248 

LETTER  XXXII.— Journey  from  Detroit  to  Princeton.— Sheboygan.—Mil- 
waukie. — Chicago. — A  Plunge  in  the  Canal. — Aspect  of  the  Country 256 

LETTER  XXXIIL— Return  to  Chicago.— Prairie-Hens.— Prairie  Lands  of  Lee 
County.— Rock  River  District 204 

LETTER  XXXIV.— Voyage  to  Fault  Ste.  Marie.— Little  Fort.— Indian  Women 
gathering  Rice.— Souttiport.— Island  of  St.  Joseph.— Muddy  Lake.— Gir- 
dled Trees 2o!> 

LETTER  XXXV.— Falls  of  the  St.  Mary.— Masses  of  Copper  and  Silver.— 
Drunken  Indians.— Descent  of  the  Rapids.— Warehouses  of  the  Hudson 
Bay  Company.— Canadian  Half-breeds.— La  Maison  de  Pierre.— Tanner 
the  Murderer 277 

LETTER  XXXVI.— Indians  at  the  Sault.— Madeleine  Island.— Indian  Dan- 
cing-girls.— Methodist  Indians. — Indian  Families.— Return  fo  Mackinaw..  287 

LETTER  XXXVII.— The  Straits  of  Mackinaw.— American  Fur  Company.— 
Peculiar  Boats.-British  Landing.-Battle-field.— Old  Mission  Church.— 
Arched  Rock C9fi 

LETTER  XXXVIII.— Excursion  to  Southern  New  Jersey.— Easton.— The  Del- 
fiwiii-f.  -The  Water  Gap.— Bite  of  a  Copper-head  Snake :«« 


8  CONTENTS. 

LETTER  XXXIX.— The  Banks  of  the  Pocano.— Deer  in  the  Laurel  Swamps.— 
Cherry  Hollow.— The  Wind  Gap.— Nazareth.— Moravian  Burying  Grounds. 
—A  Pennsylvania  German 311 

LETTER  XL.— Paint  on  Brick  Houses.— The  New  City  of  Lawrence.— Oak 
Grove... 320 

LETTER  XLI.— Islands  of  Casco  Bay.— The  Building  of  Ships.— A  Seal  in  the 
Kennebeck.— Augusta.— Multitude  of  Lakes.— Appearances  of  Thrift 325 

LETTER  XLII.— The  Willey  House.— Mount  Washington.— Scenery  of  the 
White  Mountains.— A  Hen  Mother  of  Puppies 331 

LETTER  XLIII. — Passage  to  Savannah. — Passengers  in  the  Steamer. — Old 
Times  in  Connecticut.  — Cape  Hatteras.  — Savannah.  — Bonaventure. — 
Charleston.— Augusta 336 

LETTER  XLIV.— Southern  Cotton  Mills.— Factory  Girls.— Somerville 345 

LETTER  XLV.— The  Florida  Coast.— Key  West.— Dangerous  Navigation.— A 
H  urricane  and  Flood.— Havana 351 

LETTER  XLVI.— Women  of  Cuba.— Airy  Rooms.— Devotion  of  the  Women. 
— Good  Friday. — Cascarilla. — Cemetei 
ing.— Valla  de  Gallos.— A  Masked  Ba 


—Good  Friday.— Cascarilla.— Cemetery  of  Havana.— Funerals.— Cock-flght- 
- lall. 


LETTER  XLVI  I.— Scenery  of  Cuba.— Its  Trees.— Sweet-Potato  Plantation. 
-San  Antonio  de  los  "Bafios.— Black  and  Red  Soil  of  Cuba.— A  Coffee 
Estate.— Attire  of  the  Cubans 370 

LETTER  XLVIII.— Matanzas.— Valley  of  Yumuri.— Cumbre.— Sugar  Estate. 
—Process  of  its  Manufacture 381 

LETTER  XLIX.— Negroes  in  Cuba.— Execution  by  the  Garrote.— Slave  Mar- 
ket.— African.  Indian,  and  Asiatic  Slaves.— Free  Blacks  in  Cuba. — Annex- 
ation of  Cuba  to  the  United  States 3S9 

LETTER  L.— English  Exhibitions  of  Works  of  Art.— The  Society  of  Arts  — 
Royal  Academy. — Jews  in  Parliament 402 

LETTER  LI.— A  Visit  to  the  Shetland  Isles.— Highland  Fishermen.— Ler- 
wick.— Churchgoers  in  Shetland.— Habitations  of  the  Islanders.— The 
Noup  of  the  Noss.— Sheep  and  Ponies.— Pictish  Castle.— The  Zetlandere. 
—A  Gale  in  the  North  Sea.— Cathedral  of  St.  Magnus.— Wick 408 

LETTER  LH. — Europe  under  the  Bayonet. — Uses  of  the  State  of  Siege. — 
Stuttgart.— The  H  ungarians.— Bavaria.— St.  Gall  .—Zurich.— Target-shoot- 
ing.—France.— French  Expedition  to  Rome 426 

LETTER  LIII.— Vol terra ;  its  Desolation.— The  Balza.— Etruscan  Remains.— 
Fortress  of  Volterra  436 


LETTERS  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


LETTER  I. 

FIRST   IMPRESSIONS   OF   AN  AMERICAN   IN   FRANCE. 

PAKIS,  August  9,  1834. 

SINCE  we  first  landed  in  France,  every  step  of  our 
journey  has  reminded  us  that  we  were  in  an  old  country. 
Every  thing  we  saw  spoke  of  the  past,  of  an  antiquity 
without  limit ;  everywhere  our  eyes  rested  on  the  handi- 
work of  those  who  had  heen  dead  for  ages,  and  we  were 
in  the  midst  of  customs  which  they  had  bequeathed  to 
their  descendants.  The  churches  were  so  vast,  so  solid, 
so  venerable,  and  time-eaten  ;  the  dwellings  so  gray,  and 
of  such  antique  architecture,  and  in  the  large  towns,  like 
Rouen,  rose  so  high,  and  overhung  with  such  quaint  projec- 
tions the  narrow  and  cavernous  streets ;  the  thatched  cots 
were  so  mossy  and  so  green  with  grass!  The  very  hills 
about  them  looked  scarcely  as  old,  for  there  was  youth 
in  their  vegetation — their  shrubs  and  flowers.  The  coun- 
trywomen wore  such  high  caps,  such  long  waists,  and 


10  LETTERS    OF    A     TRAVELLER. 

such  short  petticoats  ! — the  fashion  of  bonnets  is  an  irmova* 
tion  of  yesterday,  which  they  regard  with  scorn.  We  passed 
females  riding  on  donkeys,  the  Old  Testament  beast  of  bur- 
den, with  panniers  on  each  side,  as  was  the  custom  hun- 
dreds of  years  since.  We  saw  ancient  dames  sitting 
at  their  doors  with  distaffs,  twisting  the  thread  by  twirl- 
ing the  spindle  between  the  thumb  and  finger,  as  they 
did  in  the  days  of  Homer.  A  flock  of  sheep  was  grazing 
on  the  side  of  a  hill ;  they  were  attended  by  a  shepherd, 
and  a  brace  of  prick-eared  dogs,  which  kept  them  from 
straying,  as  was  done  thousands  of  years  ago.  Speckled 
birds  were  hopping  by  the  sides  of  the  road ;  it  was  the 
magpie,  the  bird  of  ancient  fable.  Flocks  of  what  I  at 
first  took  for  the  crow  of  our  country  were  stalking  in 
the  fields,  or  sailing  in  the  air  over  the  old  elms ;  it  was 
the  rook,  the  bird  made  as  classical  by  Addison  as  his 
cousin  the  raven  by  the  Latin  poets. 

Then  there  were  the  old  chateaus  on  the  hills,  built 
with  an  appearance  of  military  strength,  their  towers 
and  battlements  telling  of  feudal  times.  The  groves  by 
which  they  were  surrounded  were  for  the  most  part 
clipped  into  regular  walls,  and  pierced  with  regularly 
arched  passages,  leading  in  various  directions,  and  the 
trees  compelled  by  the  shears  to  take  the  shape  of  obe- 
lisks and  pyramids,  or  other  fantastic  figures,  according 
to  the  taste  of  the  middle  ages.  As  we  drew  nearer 
to  Paris,  we  saw  the  plant  which  Noah  first  committed 


HISTORICAL     MONUMENTS,  11 

to  the  earth  after  the  deluge — you  know  what  that  was 
I  hope — trained  on  low  stakes,  and  growing  thickly  and 
luxuriantly  on  the  slopes  by  the  side  of  the  highway. 
Here,  too,  was  the  tree  which  was  the  subject  of  the 
first  Christian  miracle,  the  fig,  its  branches  heavy  with 
the  bursting  fruit  just  beginning  to  ripen  for  the  mar- 
ket. 

But  when  we  entered  Paris,  and  passed  the  Barriere 
d'Etoile,  with  its  lofty  triumphal  arch;  when  we  swept 
through  the  arch  of  Neuilly,  and  came  in  front  of  the 
Hotel  des  Invalides,  where  the  aged  or  maimed  soldiers, 
the  living  monuments  of  so  many  battles,  were  walking 
or  sitting  under  the  elms  of  its  broad  esplanade  ;  when 
we  saw  the  colossal  statues  of  statesmen  and  warriors 
frowning  from  their  pedestals  on  the  bridges  which  be- 
stride the  muddy  and  narrow  channel  of  the  Seine ; 
when  we  came  in  sight  of  the  gray  pinnacles  of  the 
Tuilleries,  and  the  Gothic  towers  of  Notre-Dame,  and 
the  Roman  ones  of  St.  Sulpice,  and  the  dome  of  the 
Pantheon,  under  which  lie  the  remains  of  so  many  of 
the  great  men  of  France,  and  the  dark  column  of  Place 
Vendome,  wrought  with  figures  in  relief,  and  the  obelisk 
brought  from  Egypt  to  ornament  the  Place  Louis  Q/uatorze, 
the  associations  with  antiquity  which  the  country  pre- 
sents, from  being  general,  became  particular  and  historical. 
They  were  recollections  of  power,  and  magnificence,  and 
extended  empire ;  of  valor  and  skill  in  war  which  had 


12  LETTERS    OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

held  the  world  in  fear ;  of  dynasties  that  had  risen  and 
passed  away ;  of  battles  and  victories  which  had  left  no 
other  fruits  than  their  monuments. 

The  solemnity  of  these  recollections  does  not  seem  to 
press  with  much  weight  upon  the  minds  of  the  people. 
It  has  been  said  that  the  French  have  become  a  graver 
nation  than  formerly ;  if  so,  what  must  have  been  their 
gayety  a  hundred  years  ago  ?  To  me  they  seem  as  light- 
hearted  and  as  easily  amused  as  if  they  had  done  nothing 
but  make  love  and  quiz  their  priests  since  the  days  of 
Louis  XIV. — as  if  their  streets  had  never  flowed  with 
the  blood  of  Frenchmen  shed  by  their  brethren — as  if  they 
had  never  won  and  lost  a  mighty  empire.  I  can  not 
imagine  the  present  generation  to  be  less  gay  than  that 
which  listened  to  the  comedies  of  Moliere  at  their  first 
representation ;  particularly  when  I  perceive  that  even 
Moliere's  pieces  are  too  much  burdened  with  thought  for  a 
Frenchman  of  the  present  day,  and  that  he  prefers  the 
lighter  and  more  frivolous  vaudeville.  The  Parisian  has 
his  amusements  as  regularly  as  his  meals,  the  theatre, 
music,  the  dance,  a  walk  in  the  Tuilleries,  a  refection 
in  the  cafe,  to  which  ladies  resort  as  commonly  as  the 
other  sex.  Perpetual  business,  perpetual  labor,  is  a  thing 
of  which  he  seems  to  have  no  idea.  I  wake  in  the  middle 
of  the  night,  and  I  hear  the  fiddle  going,  and  the  sound  of 
feet  keeping  time,  in  some  of  the  dependencies  of  the  large 
building  near  the  Tuilleries,  in  which  I  have  my  lodgings. 


CEMETERIES.  13 

When  a  generation  of  Frenchmen 

"  Have  played,  and  laughed,  and  danced,  and  drank  their  fill" — 

when  they  have  seen  their  allotted  number  of  vaudevilles 
and  swallowed  their  destined  allowance  of  weak  wine  and 
bottled  small-beer,  they  are  swept  off  to  the  cemetery  of 
Montmartre,  or  of  Pere  la  Chaise,  or  some  other  of  the 
great  burial-places  which  lie  just  without  the  city.  I  went 
to  visit  the  latter  of  these  the  other  day.  You  are  re- 
minded of  your  approach  to  it  by  the  rows  of  stone-cutters' 
shops  on  each  side  of  the  street,  with  a  glittering  display  of 
polished  marble  monuments.  The  place  of  the  dead  is 
almost  a  gayer-looking  spot  than  the  ordinary  haunts  of 
Parisian  life.  It  is  traversed  with  shady  walks  of  elms 
and  limes,  and  its  inmates  lie  amidst  thickets  of  orna- 
mental shrubs  and  plantations  of  the  most  gaudy  flowers. 
Their  monuments  are  hung  with  wreaths  of  artificial 
flowers,  or  of  those  natural  ones  which  do  not  lose  their 
color  and  shape  in  drying,  like  the  amaranth  and  the  ever- 
lasting. Parts  of  the  cemetery  seem  like  a  city  in  minia- 
ture ;  the  sepulchral  chapels,  through  the  windows  of  which 
you  see  crucifixes  and  tapers,  stand  close  to  each  other 
beside  the  path,  intermingled  with  statues  and  busts. 

There  is  one  part  of  this  repository  of  the  dead  which  is 
little  visited,  that  in  which  the  poor  are  buried,  \vhere  those 
who  have  dwelt  apart  from  their  more  fortunate  fellow- 
creatures  in  life  lie  apart  in  death.  Here  are  no  walks, 


14  LETTERS    OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

no  shade  of  trees,  no  planted  shrubbery,  but  ridges  of  raw 
earth,  and  tufts  of  coarse  herbage  show  where  the  bodies 
are  thrown  together  under  a  thin  covering  of  soil.  I  was 
about  to  walk  over  the  spot,  but  was  repelled  by  the 
sickening  exhalations  that  rose  from  it. 


THE    ARNO.  15 


LETTER  II. 

A    JOURNEY    TO    FLORENCE. 

FLORENCE,  Sept  27,  1834. 

I  HAVE  now  been  in  this  city  a  fortnight,  and  have  estab- 
lished myself  in  a  suite  of  apartments  lately  occupied,  as 
the  landlord  told  me,  in  hopes  I  presume  of  getting  a 
higher  rent,  by  a  Russian  prince.  The  Arno  flows,  or 
rather  stands  still,  under  my  windows,  for  the  water  is  low, 
and  near  the  western  wall  of  the  city  is  frugally  dammed 
up  to  preserve  it  for  the  public  baths.  Beyond,  this  stream 
so  renowned  in  history  and  poetry,  is  at  this  season  but  a 
feeble  rill,  almost  lost  among  the  pebbles  of  its  bed,  and 
scarcely  sufficing  to  give  drink  to  the  pheasants  and  hares 
of  the  Grand  Duke's  Cascine  on  its  banks.  Opposite  my 
lodgings,  at  the  south  end  of  the  Ponte  alia  Carraia,  is  a 
little  oratory,  before  the  door  of  which  every  good  Catholic 
who  passes  takes  off*  his  hat  with  a  gesture  of  homage  ;  and 
at  this  moment  a  swarthy,  weasel-faced  man,  with  a  tin  box 
in  Ms  hand,  is  gathering  contributions  to  pay  for  the  services 
of  the  chapel,  rattling  his  coin  to  attract  the  attention  of 
the  pedestrians,  and  calling  out  to  those  who  seem  disposed 
to  pass  without  paying.  To  the  north  and  west,  the  peaks 


16  LETTERS     OF    A     TRAVELLER. 

of  the  Appenines  are  in  full  sight,  rising  over  the  spires  of 
the  city  and  the  groves  of  the  Cascine.  Every  evening  I 
see  them  through  the  soft,  delicately-colored  haze  of  an  Italian 
sunset,  looking  as  if  they  had  caught  something  of  the 
transparency  of  the  sky,  and  appearing  like  mountains  of 
fairy-land,  instead  of  the  hleak  and  barren  ridges  of  rock 
which  they  really  are.  The  weather  since  my  arrival  in 
Tuscany  has  heen  continually  serene,  the  sky  wholly  cloud- 
less, and  the  temperature  uniform — oppressively  warm  in 
the  streets  at  noon,  delightful  at  morning  and  evening,  with 
a  long,  beautiful,  golden  twilight,  occasioned  by  the  reflec- 
tion of  light  from  the  orange-colored  haze  which  invests 
the  atmosphere.  Every  night  I  am  reminded  that  I  am  in 
the  land  of  song,  for  until  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  I  hear 
"  all  manner  of  tunes"  chanted  by  people  in  the  streets  in 
all  manner  of  voices. 

I  believe  I  have  given  you  no  account  of  our  journey  from 
Paris  t-o  this  place.  That  part  of  it  which  lay  between 
Paris  and  Chalons,  on  the  Saone,  may  be  described  in  a 
very  few  words.  Monotonous  plains,  covered  with  vine- 
yards and  wheat-fields,  with  very  few  trees,  and  those 
spoiled  by  being  lopped  for  fuel — sunburnt  women  driving 
carts  or  at  work  in  the  fields — gloomy,  cheerless-looking 
towns,  with  narrow,  filthy  streets — troops  of  beggars  sur- 
rounding your  carriage  whenever  you  stop,  or  whenever  the 
nature  of  the  roads  obliges  the  horses  to  walk,  and  chanting 
their  requests  in  the  most  doleful  whine  imaginable — such 


AUTUN. CHALONS.  17 

are  the  sights  and  sounds  that  meet  you  for  the  greater  part 
of  two  hundred  and  fifty  miles.  There  are,  however,  some 
exceptions  as  to  the  aspect  of  the  country.  Autun,  one  of 
the  most  ancient  towns  of  France,  and  yet  retaining  some 
remains  of  Roman  architecture,  lies  in  a  beautiful  and 
picturesque  region.  A  little  beyond  that  town  we  ascended 
a  hill  by  a  road  winding  along  a  glen,  the  rocky  sides  of 
which  were  clothed  with  an  impruned  wood,  and  a  clea; 
stream  ran  dashing  over  the  stones,  now  on  one  side  of  the 
road  and  then  on  the  other — the  first  instance .  of  a  brook 
left  to  follow  its  natural  channel  which  I  had  seen  in  France. 
Two  young  Frenchmen,  who  were  our  fellow-passengers, 
were  wild  with  delight  at  this  glimpse  of  unspoiled  nature. 
They  followed  the  meanderings  of  the  stream,  leaping  from 
rock  to  rock,  and  shouting  till  the  woods  rang  again. 

Of  Chalons  I  have  nothing  to  tell  you.  Abelard  died  there, 
and  his  tomb  was  erected  with  that  of  Eloise  in  the  church 
of  St.  Marcel ;  but  the  church  is  destroyed,  and  the  monu- 
ment has  been  transported  to  the  cemetery  of  Pere  la 
Chaise,  and  with  it  all  the  poetry  of  the  place  is  vanished. 
But  if  you  would  make  yourself  supremely  uncomfortable, 
travel  as  I  did  in  a  steamboat  down  the  Saone  from  Chalons 
to  Lyons,  on  a  rainy  day.  Crowded  into  a  narrow,  dirty 
cabin,  with  benches  on  each  side  and  a  long  table  in  the 
middle,  at  which  a  set  of  Frenchmen  with  their  hats  on  are 
playing  cards  and  eating  dejeuners  a  la  fourchette  all  day 
long,  and  deafening  you  with  their  noise,  while  waiters  are 
2* 


18  LETTEKS    OF    A    TRAVELLER. 

running  against  your  legs  and  treading  on  your  toes  every 
moment,  and  the  water  is  dropping  on  your  head  through 
the  cracks  of  the  deck-floor,  you  would  he  forced  to  ad- 
mit the  superlative  misery  of  such  a  mode  of  travelling. 
The  approach  to  Lyons,  however,  made  some  amends 
lor  these  inconveniences.  The  shores  of  the  river,  hither- 
to low  and  level,  hegan  to  rise  into  hills,  broken  with 
precipices  and  crowned  by  castles,  some  in  ruins  and 
others  entire,  and  seemingly  a  part  of  the  very  rocks 
on  which  they  stood,  so  old  and  mossy  and  strong  did 
they  seem.  "What  struck  me  most  in  Lyons  was  the  supe- 
riority of  its  people  in  looks  and  features  to  the  inhabit- 
ants of  Paris — the  clatter  and  jar  of  silk-looms  with  which 
its  streets  resounded — and  the  picturesque  beauty  of  its 
situation,  placed  as  it  is  among  steeps  and  rocks,  with  the 
quiet  Saone  on  one  side,  and  the  swiftly-running  Rhone  on 
the  other.  In  our  journey  from  Lyons  to  Marseilles  we 
travelled  by  land  instead  of  taking  the  steamboat,  as  is 
commonly  done  as  far  as  Avignon.  The  common  books  of 
travels  will  tell  you  how  numerous  are  the  ruins  of  feudal 
times  perched  upon  the  heights  all  along  the  Rhone, 
remnants  of  fortresses  and  castles,  overlooking  a  vast  extent 
of  country  and  once  serving  as  places  of  refuge  to  the  culti- 
vators of  the  soil  who  dwelt  in  their  vicinity — how  frequently 
alto  are  to  be  met  with  the  earlier  yet  scarcely  less  fresh 
traces  of  Roman  colonization  and  dominion,  in  gateways, 
triumphal  arches,  walls,  and  monuments — how  on  entering 


19 

Provence  you  find  yourself  among  a  people  of  a  cliiicrent 
physiognomy  from  those  of  the  northern  provinces,  speaking 
a  language  which  rather  resembles  Italian  than  French — 
how  the  beauty  of  the  women  of  Avignon  still  does  credit  to 
the  taste  of  the  clergy,  who  made  that  city  for  more  than 
half  a  century  the  seat  of  the  Papal  power — and  how,  as 
you  approach  the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean,  the  moun- 
tains which  rise  from  the  fruitful  valleys  shoot  up  in  wilder 
forms,  until  their  summits  become  mere  pinnacles  of  rock 
wholly  bare  of  vegetation. 

Marseilles  is  seated  in  the  midst  of  a  semicircle  of  moun- 
tains of  whitish  rock,  the  steep  and  naked  sides  of  which 
scarce  afford  "  a  footing  for  the  goat."  Stretching  into  the 
Mediterranean  they  inclose  a  commodious  harbor,  in  front  of 
which  are  two  or  three  rocky  islands  anchored  in  a  sea  of 
more  vivid  blue  than  any  water  I  had  ever  before  seen. 
The  country  immediately  surrounding  the  city  is  an  arid 
and  dusty  valley,  intersected  here  and  there  with  the  bed  of 
a  brook  or  torrent,  dry  during  the  summer.  It  is  carefully 
cultivated,  however,  and  planted  with  vineyards,  and 
orchards  of  olive,  fig,  and  pomegranate  trees.  The  trees 
being  small  and  low,  the  foliage  of  the  olive  thin  and  pale, 
the  leaves  of  the  fig  broad  and  few,  and  the  soil  appearing 
everywhere  at  their  roots,  as  well  as  between  the  rows  of 
vines,  the  vegetation,  when  viewed  from  a  little  distance, 
has  a  meagre  and  ragged  appearance.  The  whiteness  of 
the  hills,  which  the  eye  can  hardly  bear  to  rest  upon  at 


20  LETTERS    OF    A     TRAVELLER. 

nooii,  the  intense  blue  of  the  sea,  the  peculiar  forms  of  the 
foliage,  and  the  deficiency  of  shade  and  verdure,  made  me 
almost  fancy  myself  in  a  tropical  region. 

The  Greeks  judged  well  of  the  commercial  advantages 
of  Marseilles  when  they  made  it  the  seat  of  one  of  their 
early  colonies.  I  found  its  streets  animated  with  a  bustle 
which  I  had  not  seen  since  I  left  New  York,  and  its  port 
thronged  with  vessels  from  all  the  nations  whose  coasts 
border  upon  the  great  midland  sea  of  Europe.  Marseilles  is 
the  most  nourishing  seaport  in  France ;  it  has  already 
become  to  the  Mediterranean  what  New  York  is  to  the 
United  States,  and  its  trade  is  regularly  increasing.  The 
old  town  is  ugly,  but  the  lower  or  new  part  is  nobly  built 
of  the  light-colored  stone  so  commonly  used  in  France,  and 
so  easily  wrought — with  broad  streets  and,  what  is  rare  in 
French  towns,  convenient  sidewalks.  New  streets  are  laid 
out,  gardens  are  converted  into  building-lots,  the  process  of 
leveling  hills  and  filling  up  hollows  is  going  on  as  in  New 
York,  the  city  is  extending  itself  on  every  side,  and  large 
fortunes  have  been  made  by  the  rise  in  the  value  of  landed 
property. 

In  a  conversation  with  an  intelligent  gentleman  resident 
at  Marseilles  and  largely  engaged  in  commercial  and 
moneyed  transactions,  the  subject  of  the  United  States  Bank 
was  mentioned.  Opinions  in  France,  on  this  question  of  our 
domestic  politics,  differ  according  as  the  opportunities  of 
information  possessed  by  the  individual  are  more  or  less 


APmOACII     TO     ITALY.  21 

ample,  or  as  he  is  more  or  less  in  favor  of  chartered  banks. 
The  gentleman  remarked  that  without  any  reference  to  the 
question  of  the  United  States  Bank,  he  hoped  the  day  would 
never  come  when  such  an  institution  would  be  established 
in  France.  The  project  he  said  had  some  advocates,  but 
they  had  not  yet  succeeded,  and  he  hoped  never  would 
succeed  in  the  introduction  of  that  system  of  paper  currency 
which  prevailed  in  the  United  States.  He  deprecated  the 
dangerous  and  uncertain  facilities  of  obtaining  credit  which 
are  the  fruit  of  that  system,  which  produce  the  most  ruinous 
fluctuations  in  commerce,  encourage  speculation  and  ex- 
travagance of  all  kinds,  and  involve  the  prudent  arid  labo- 
rious in  the  ruin  which  falls  upon  the  rash  and  reckless. 
He  declared  himself  satisfied  with  the  state  of  the  currency 
of  France,  with  which,  if  fortunes  were  not  suddenly  built 
up  they  were  not  suddenly  overthrown,  and  periods  of  ap- 
parent prosperity  were  not  followed  by  seasons  of  real 
distress. 

I  made  the  journey  from  Marseilles  to  Florence  by  land. 
How  grand  and  wild  are  the  mountains  that  overlook  the 
Mediterranean ;  how  intense  was  the  heat  as  we  wound  our 
way  along  the  galleries  of  rock  cut  to  form  a  road ;  how  ex- 
cellent are  the  fruits,  and  how  thick  the  mosquitoes  at  Nice  ; 
how  sumptuous  are  the  palaces,  how  narrow  and  dark  the 
streets,  and  how  pallid  the  dames  of  Genoa ;  and  how 
beautiful  we  found  our  path  among  the  trees  overrun  with 
vines  as  we  approached  southern  Italy,  are  matters  which  I 


22  L  T;  T  T  E  Jl  S     O  F     A     T  R  A  V  E  L  L  E  R . 

v.-ill  take  some  other  opportunity  of  relating.  On  the  12th 
of  September  our  vcttitriiin  set  us  down  safe  at  the  Hotel  de 
r  ]^,ifope  in  Florence. 

I  think  I  shall  return  to  America  even  a  better  patriot 
than  when  I  left  it.  A  citizen  of  the  United  States  travel- 
ling on  the  continent  of  Europe,  finds  the  contrast  between 
a  government  of  power  and  a  government  of  opinion  forced 
upon  him  at  every  step.  He  finds  himself  delayed  at  every 
large  town  and  at  every  frontier  of  a  kingdom  or  princi- 
pality, to  submit  to  a  strict  examination  of  the  passport  with 
which  the  jealousy  of  the  rulers  of  these  countries  has  com- 
pelled him  to  furnish  himself.  He  sees  everywhere  guards 
and  sentinels  armed  to  the  teeth,  stationed  in  the  midst  of  a 
population  engaged  in  their  ordinary  occupations  in  a  time 
of  profound  peace  ;  and  to  supply  the  place  of  the  young 
and  robust  thus  withdrawn  from  the  labors  of  agriculture 
he  beholds  women  performing  the  work  of  the  fields.  He 
sees  the  many  retained  in  a  state  of  hopeless  dependence 
and  poverty,  the  effect  of  institutions  forged  by  the  ruling 
class  to  accumulate  wealth  in  their  own  hands.  The  want 
of  self-respect  in  the  inferior  class  engendered  by  this  state 
of  things,  shows  itself  in  the  acts  of  rapacity  and  fraud 
which  the  traveller  meets  with  throughout  France  and 
Italy,  and,  worse  still,  in  the  shameless  corruption  of  the 
Italian  custom-houses,  the  officers  of  which  regularly  solicit 
a  paltry  bribe  from  every  passenger  as  the  consideration  of 
leaving  his  baggage  unexamined.  I  am  told  that  in  this 


BRIBERY    IN     THE     COURTS.  23 

place  the  custom  of  giving  presents  extends  even  to  the 
courts  of  justice,  the  officers  of  which,  from  the  highest  to 
the  lowest,  are  in  the  constant  practice  of  receiving  them. 
No  American  can  see  how  much  jealousy  and  force  on  the 
one  hand,  and  necessity  and  fear  on  the  other,  have  to  do 
with  keeping  up  the  existing  governments  of  Europe, 
without  thanking  heaven  that  such  is  not  the  condition  of 
his  own  country. 


LETTERS    OF    A     TRAVELLER. 


LETTER  III. 

TUSCAN  SCENERY  AND  CLIMATE.  \ 

FLORENCE,  October  11,  1834. 

THE  bridge  over  the  Arno,  immediately  under  my  window, 
is  the  spot  from  which  Cole's  fine  landscape,  which  you  per- 
haps remernher  seeing  in  the  exhibition  of  our  Ac.ademy,  was 
taken.  It  gives,  you  may  recollect,  a  view  of  the  Arno  travel- 
ling off  towards  the  west,  its  hanks  overhung  with  trees, 
the  mountain-ridges  rising  in  the  distance,  and  above  them 
the  sky  flushed  with  the  colors  of  sunset.  The  same  rich 
hues  I  behold  every  evening  in  the  quarter  where  they  were 
seen  by  the  artist  when  he  made  them  permanent  on  his 
canvas. 

There  is  a  great  deal  of  prattle  about  Italian  skies  :  the 
skies  and  clouds  of  Italy,  so  far  as  I  have  had  an  opportu- 
nity of  judging,  do  not  present  so  great  a  variety  of  beau- 
tiful appearances  as  our  own ;  but  the  Italian  atmosphere 
is  far  more  uniformly  fine  than  ours.  Not  to  speak  of  its 
astonishing  clearness,  it  is  pervaded  by  a  certain  warmth 
of  color  which  enriches  every  object.  This  is  more  remark- 
able about  the  time  of  sunset,  when  the  mountains  put  on 
an  aerial  aspect,  as  if  they  belonged  to  another  and  fairer 


AUTUMN    IN    FLORENCE.  '      Z6 

world  ;  and  a  little  after  the  sun  has  gone  down,  the  air  is 
flushed  with  a  glory  which  seems  to  transfigure  all  that  it 
incloses.  Many  of  the  fine  old  palaces  of  Florence,  you 
know,  are  built  in  a  gloomy  though  grand  style  of  arcliitec- 
ture,  of  a  dark-colored  stone,  massive  and  lofty,  and  over- 
looking narrow  streets  that  lie  in  almost  perpetual  shade. 
But  at  the  hour  of  which  I  am  speaking,  the  bright  warm 
radiance  reflected  from  the  sky  to  the  earth,  fills  the  dark- 
est lanes,  streams  into  the  most  shadowy  nooks,  and  makes 
the  prison-like  structures  glitter  as  with  a  brightness  of 
their  own.  . 

It  is  now  nearly  the  middle  of  October,  and  we  have  had 
no  frost.  The  strong  summer  heats  which  prevailed  when 
1  came  hither,  have  by  the  slowest  gradations  subsided  into 
an  agreeable  autumnal  temperature.  The  trees  keep  their 
verdure,  but  I  perceive  their  foliage  growing  thinner,  and 
when  I  walk  in  the  Cascine  on  the  other  side  of  the  Arno,  the 
rustling  of  the  lizards,  as  they  run  among  the  heaps  of  crisn 
leaves,  reminds  me  that  the  autumn  is  wearing  away, 
though  the  ivy  which  clothes  the  old  elms  has  put  forth  a 
profuse  array  of  blossoms,  and  the  walks  murmur  with  bee! , 
like  our  orchards  in  spring.  As  I  look  along  the  declivitie ; 
of  the  Appenines,  I  see  the  raw  earth  every  day  mors 
visible  between  the  ranks  of  olive-trees  and  the  well-pruned 
maples  which  support  the  vines. 

If  I  have  found  my  expectations  of  Italian  scenery, 
in  some  respects,  below  the  reality,  in  other  respecta  they 


26  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

have  been  disappointed.  The  forms  of  the  mountains  are 
wonderfully  picturesque,  and  their  effect  is  heightened  by 
the  rich  atmosphere  through  which  they  are  seen,  and  by 
the  buildings,  imposing  from  their  architecture  or  venera- 
able  from  time,  which  crown  the  eminences.  But  if  the 
hand  of  man  has  done  something  to  embellish  this  region, 
it  has  done  more  to  deform  it.  Not  a  tree  is  suffered  to  re- 
tain its  natural  shape,  not  a  brook  to  flow  in  its  natural 
channel.  An  exterminating  war  is  carried  on  against  the 
natural  herbage  of  the  soil.  The  country  is  without  woods 
and  green  fields ;  and  to  him  who  views  the  vale  of  the 
Arno  "  from  the  top  of  Fiesole,"  or  any  of  the  neighboring 
heights,  grand  as  he  will  allow  the  circle  of  the  mountains 
to  be,  and  magnificent  the  edifices  with  which  the  region 
is  adorned,  it  appears,  at  any  time  after  midsummer,  a 
huge  valley  of  dust,  planted  with  low  rows  of  the  pallid 
and  thin-leaved  olive,  or  the  more  dwarfish  maple  on  which 
the  vines  are  trained.  The  simplicity  of  nature,  so  far  as 
can  be  done,  is  destroyed  ;  there  is  no  fine  sweep  of  forest, 
no  broad  expanse  of  meadow  or  pasture  ground,  no  ancient 
and  towering  trees  clustered  about  the  villas,  no  rows  of 
natural  shrubbery  following  the  course  of  the  brooks  and 
rivers.  The  streams,  which  are  often  but  the  beds  of  tor- 
rents dry  during  the  summer,  are  confined  in  straight  channels 
by  stone  walls  and  embankments ;  the  slopes  are  broken  up 
and  disfigured  by  terraces  ;  and  the  trees  are  kept  down  by 
constant  pruning  and  lopping,  until  half  way  up  the  sides 


FLORENTINE    ACADEMY    OF    THE    FINE    ARTS.      27 

of  the  Appenines,  where  the  limit  of  cultivation  is  reached, 
and  thence  to  the  summit  is  a  barren  steep  of  rock,  without 
herbage  or  soil.  The  grander  features  of  the  landscape, 
however,  are  fortunately  beyond  the  power  of  man  to  in- 
jure ;  the  lofty  mountain-summits,  bare  precipices  cleft  with 
chasms,  and  pinnacles  of  rock  piercing  the  sky,  betokening, 
far  more  than  any  thing  I  have  seen  elsewhere,  a  breaking 
up  of  the  crust  of  the  globe  in  some  early  period  of  its  exist- 
ence. I  am  told  that  in  May  and  June  the  country  is  much 
more  beautiful  than  at  present,  and  that  owing  to  a  drought 
it  now  appears  under  a  particular  disadvantage. 

The  Academy  of  the  Fine  Arts  has  had  its  exhibition 
since  I  arrived.  In  its  rooms,  which  were  gratuitously  open 
to  the  public,  I  found  a  large  crowd  of  gazers  at  the  pic- 
tures and  statues.  Many  had  corne  to  look  at  some  work 
ordered  by  an  acquaintance  ;  others  made  the  place  a  morn- 
ing lounge.  In  the  collection  were  some  landscapes  by 
Morghen,  the  son  of  the  celebrated  engraver,  very  fresh  and 
clear  ;  a  few  pieces  sent  by  Bezzoli,  one  of  the  most  emi- 
nent Italian  painters  of  his  time ;  a  statue  of  Galileo,  not 
without  merit,  by  Costoli,  for  there  is  always  a  Galileo  or  two, 
I  believe,  at  every  exhibition  of  the  kind  in  Florence ;  por- 
traits good,  bad,  and  indifferent,  in  great  abundance,  and 
many  square  feet  of  canvas  spoiled  by  attempts  at  historical 
painting. 

Let  me  remark,  by  the  way,  that  a  work  of  art  is  a  sacred 
thing  in  the  eyes  of  Italians  of  all  classes,  never  to  be  do- 


28  LETTERS     OF     A     TKAVELLEH. 

faced,  never  to  be  touched,  a  thing  to  be  looked  at  merely. 
A  statue  may  stand  for  ages  in  a  public  square,  within  the 
reach  of  any  one  who  passes,  and  with  no  sentinel  to  guard 
it,  and  yet  it  shall  not  only  be  safe  from  mutilation,  but  the 
surface  of  the  marble  shall  never  be  scratched,  or  even 
irreverently  scored  with  a  lead  pencil.  So  general  is  this 
reverence  for  art,  that  the  most  perfect  confidence  is  re- 
posed in  it.  I  remember  that  in  Paris,  as  I  was  looking  at 
a  colossal  plaster  cast  of  Napoleon  at  the  Hotel  des  In- 
valides,  a  fellow  armed  with  a  musket  who  stood  by  it  bolt 
upright,  in  the  stiff  attitude  to  which  the  soldier  is  drilled, 
gruffly  reminded  me  that  I  was  too  near,  though  I  was  not 
within  four  feet  of  it.  In  Florence  it  is  taken  for  granted 
that  you  will  do  no  mischief,  and  therefore  you  are  not 
watched. 


DAY     IN     1M.O  HENCE.  29 


LETTER  IV. 

A     DAY     IN     FLORENCE. 

PISA,  December  11,  1834. 

IT  is  gratifying  to  be  able  to  communicate  a  piece  of  po 
litical  intelligence  from  so  quiet  a  nook  of  the  world  as  this. 
Don  Miguel  arrived  here  the  other  day  from  Genoa,  where 
you  know  there  was  a  story  that  he  and  the  Duchess  of 
Berri,  a  hopeful  couple,  were  laying  their  heads  together. 
He  went  to  pay  his  respects  to  the  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany, 
who  is  now  at  Pisa,  and  it  was  said  by  the  gossips  of  the 
place  that  he  was  coldly  received,  and  was  given  to  under- 
stand that  he  could  not  be  allowed  to  remain  in  the  Tuscan 
territory.  There  was  probably  nothing  in  all  this.  Don 
Miguel  has  now  departed  for  Rome,  and  the  talk  of  to-day  is 
that  he  will  return  before  the  end  of  the  winter.  He  is 
doubtless  wandering  about  to  observe  in  what  manner  he  is 
received  at  the  petty  courts  which  are  influenced  by  the 
Austrian  policy,  and  in  the  mean  time  lying  in  wait  for 
some  favorable  opportunity  of  renewing  his  pretensions  to 
the  crown  of  Spain. 

Pisa  offers  a  greater  contrast  to  Florence  than  I  had  im- 
agined could  exist  between  two  Italian  cities.  This  is  the 
3* 


30  LETTERS     01'     A     TRAVELLER. 

very  seat  of  idleness  and  slumber  ;  while  Florence,  from 
being  the  residence  of  the  Court,  and  from  the  vast  number 
of  foreigners  who  throng  to  it,  presents  during  several 
months  of  the  year  an  appearance  of  great  bustle  and 
animation.  Four  thousand  English,  an  American  friend 
tells  me,  visit  Florence  every  winter,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
occasional  residents  from  France,  Germany,  and  Russia. 
The  number  of  visitors  from  the  latter  country  is  every  year 
increasing,  and  the  echoes  of  the  Florence  gallery  have 
been  taught  to  repeat  the  strange  accents  of  the  Sclavonic. 
Let  me  give  you  the  history  of  a  fine  day  in  October,  passed 
at  the  window  of  my  lodgings  on  the  Lung'  Arno,  close  to 
the  bridge  Alia  Carraja.  Waked  by  the  jangling  of  all 
the  bells  in  Florence  and  by  the  noise  of  carriages  departing 
loaded  with  travellers,  for  Rome  and  other  places  in  the 
south  of  Italy,  I  rise,  dress  myself,  and  take  my  place  at 
the  window.  I  see  crowds  of  men  and  women  from  the 
country,  the  former  in  brown  velvet  jackets,  and  the  latter 
in  broad-brimmed  straw  hats,  driving  donkeys  loaded  with 
panniers  or  trundling  hand -carts  before  them,  heaped  with 
grapes,  figs,  and  all  the  fruits  of  the  orchard,  the  garden,  and 
the  field.  They  have  hardly  passed,  when  large  flocks  of 
sheep  and  goats  make  their  appearance,  attended  by 
shepherds  and  their  families,  driven  by  the  approach  of 
winter  from  the  Appenines,  and  seeking  the  pastures  of  the 
Maremma,  a  rich,  but,  in  the  summer,  an  unhealthy  tract 
on  the  coast.  The  men  and  boys  are  dressed  in  knee- 


MOR.NINU     IN     FLORENCE.  31 

| 

breeches,  the  women  in  bodices,  and  both  sexes  wear 
capotes  with  pointed  hoods,  and  felt  hats  with  conical 
crowns ;  they  carry  long  staves  in  their  hands,  and  their 
arms  are  loaded  with  kids  and  lambs  too  young  to  keep 
pace  with  their  mothers.  After  the  long  procession  of 
sheep  and  goats  and  dogs  and  men  and  women  and  chil- 
dren, come  horses  loaded  with  cloths  and  poles  for  tents, 
kitchen  utensils,  and  the  rest  of  the  younglings  of  the  flock. 
A  little  after  sunrise  I  see  well-fed  donkeys,  in  coverings  of 
red  cloth,  driven  over  the  bridge  to  be  milked  for  invalids. 
Maid-servants,  bareheaded,  with  huge  high  carved  combs  in. 
their  hair,  waiters  of  coffee-houses  carrying  the  morning  cup 
of  coffee  or  chocolate  to  their  customers,  baker's  boys  with  a 
dozen  loaves  on  a  board  balanced  on  their  heads,  milkmen 
vvith  rush  baskets  filled  with  flasks  of  milk,  are  crossing  the 
streets  in  all  directions.  A  little  later  the  bell  of  the  small 
chapel  opposite  to  my  window  rings  furiously  for  a  quarter 
of  an  hour,  and  then  I  hear  mass  chanted  in  a  deep  strong 
nasal  tone.  As  the  day  advances,  the  English,  in  white 
hats  and  white  pantaloons,  come  out  of  their  lodgings, 
accompanied  sometimes  by  their  hale  and  square-built 
spouses,  and  saunter  stiffly  along  the  Arno,  or  take  their 
way  to  the  public  galleries  and  museums.  Their  massive, 
clean,  and  brightly-polished  carriages  also  begin  to  rattle 
through  the  streets,  setting  out  on  excursions  to  some  part 
of  the  environs  of  Florence — to  Fiesole,  to  the  Pratolino,  to 
the  Bello  Sguardo,  to  the  Poggio  Imperiale.  Sights  of  a 


32  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

different  kind  now  present  themselves.  Sometimes  it  is 
a  troop  of  stout  Franciscan  friars,  in  sandals  and  brown 
robes,  each  carrying  his  staff  and  wearing  a  brown  broad- 
brimmed  hat  with  a  hemispherical  crown.  Sometimes  it  iri 
a  band  of  young  theological  students,  in  purple  cassocks  with 
red  collars  and  cuffs,  let  out  on  a  holiday,  attended  by  their 
clerical  instructors,  to  ramble  in  the  Cascine.  There  is 
a  priest  coming  over  the  bridge,  a  man  of  venerable  age 
and  great  reputation  for  sanctity — the  common  people  crowd 
around  him  to  kiss  his  hand,  and  obtain  a  kind  word  from 
him  as  he  passes.  But  what  is  that  procession  of  men  in 
black  gowns,  black  gaiters,  and  black  masks,  moving  swiftly 
along,  and  bearing  on  their  shoulders  a  litter  coA^ered  with 
black  cloth  ?  These  are  the  Brethren  of  Mercy,  who 
have  assembled  at  the  sound  of  the  cathedral  bell,  and  are 
conveying  some  sick  or  wounded  person  to  the  hospital.  As 
the  day  begins  to  decline,  the  numbers  of  carriages  in  the 
streets,  filled  with  gaily-dressed  people  attended  by  servants 
in  livery,  increases.  The  Grand  Duke's  equipage,  an  ele- 
gant carriage  drawn  by  six  horses,  with  coachmen,  footmen, 
and  outriders  in  drab-colored  livery,  comes  from  the  Pitti 
Palace,  arid  crosses  the  Arno,  either  by  the  bridge  close  to 
my  lodgings,  or  by  that  called  Alia  Santa  Trinita,  which 
is  in  full  sight  from  the  windows.  The  Florentine  nobility, 
with  their  families,  and  the  English  residents,  now  throng 
to  the  Cascine,  to  drive  at  a  slow  pace  through  its  thickly- 
planted  walks  of  elms,  oaks,  and  ilexes.  As  the  sun  is- 


EVENING     IN     FLORENCE.  33 

sinking  I  perceive  the  Q,uay,  on.  the  other  side  of  the  Arno, 
filled  with  a  moving  crowd  of  well-dressed  people,  walking 
to  and  fro,  and  enjoying  the  beauty  of  the  evening.  Travel- 
lers now  arrive  from  all  quarters,  in  cabriolets,  in  calashes, 
in  the  shabby  vettura,  and  in  the  elegant  private  carriage 
drawn  by  post-horses,  and  driven  by  postillions  in  the  tight- 
est possible  deer-skin  breeches,  the  smallest  red  coats,  and  the 
hugest  jack-boots.  The  streets  about  the  doors  of  the  hotels 
resound  with  the  cracking  of  whips  and  the  stamping  of 
horses,  and  are  encumbered  with  carriages,  heaps  of  bag- 
gage, porters,  postillions,  couriers,  and  travellers.  Night  at 
length  arrives — the  time  of  spectacles  and  funerals.  The 
carriages  rattle  towards  the  opera-houses.  Trains  of  people, 
sometimes  in  white  robes  and  sometimes  in  black,  carrying 
blazing  torches  and  a  cross  elevated  on  a  high  pole  before  a 
coffin,  pass  through  the  streets  chanting  the  service  for  the 
dead.  The  Brethren  of  Mercy  may  also  be  seen  engaged  in 
their  office.  The  rapidity  of  their  pace,  the  flare  of  their 
torches,  the  gleam  of  their  eyes  through  their  masks,  and 
their  sable  garb,  give  them  a  kind  of  supernatural  appear- 
ance. I  return  to  bed,  and  fall  asleep  amidst  the  shouts  of 
people  returning  from  the  opera,  singing  as  they  go  snatches 
of  the  music  with  which  they  had  been  entertained  during 
the  evening. 

Such  is  a  picture  of  what  passes  every  day  at  Florence — 
in  Pisa,  on  the  contrary,  all  is  stagnation  and  repose — even 
the  presence  of  the  sovereign,  who  usually  passes  a  part  of 


34  LETTERS    OF    A     TRAVELLER. 

the  winter  here,  is  incompetent  to  give  a  momentary  liveli- 
ness to  the  place.  The  city  is  nearly  as  large  as  Florence, 
with  not  a  third  of  its  population  ;  the  number  of  strangers 
is  few ;  most  of  them  are  invalids,  and  the  rest  are  the 
quietest  people  in  the  world.  The  rattle  of  carriages  is 
rarely  heard  in  the  streets  ;  in  some  of  which  there  prevails 
a  stillness  so  complete  that  you  might  imagine  them  desert- 
ed of  their  inhabitants.  I  have  now  been  here  three  weeks, 
and  on  one  occasion  only  have  I  seen  the  people  of  the 
place  awakened  to  something  like  animation.  It  was  the 
feast  of  the  Conception  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  ;  the  Lung' 
Arno  was  strewn  with  boughs  of  laurel  and  myrtle,  arid  the 
Pisan  gentry  promenaded  for  an  hour  under  my  window. 

On  my  leaving  Florence  an  incident  occurred,  which  will 
illustrate  the  manner  of  doing  public  business  in  this 
country.  I  had  obtained  my  passport  from  the  Police 
Office,  vised  for  Pisa.  It  was  then  Friday,  and  I  was  told 
that  it  would  answer  until  ten  o'clock  on  Tuesday  morning. 
Unluckily  I  did  not  present  myself  at  the  Leghorn  gate  of 
Florence  until  eleven  o'clock  on  that  day.  A  young  man 
in  a  military  hat,  sword,  and  blue  uniform,  came  to  the 
carriage  and  asked  for  my  passport,  which  I  handed  him. 
In  a  short  time  he  appeared  again  and  desired  me  to  get 
out  and  go  with  him  to  the  apartment  in  the  side  of  the 
gate.  I  went  and  saw  a  middle-aged  man  dressed  in  the 
same  manner,  sitting  at  the  table  with  my  passport  before 
him.  "  I  am  sorry,"  said  he,  "  to  say  that  your  passport  is 


USES     OF     A     PASSPORT.  35 

not  regular,  and  that  my  duty  compels  me  to  detain  you." 
"  What  is  the  matter  with  the  passport?"  "The  vise  is 
of  more  than  three  days  standing."  I  exerted  all  my  elo- 
quence to  persuade  him  that  an  hour  was  of  no  consequence, 
and  that  the  public  welfare  would  not  suffer  by  letting  me 
pass,  but  he  remained  firm.  "  The  law,"  he  said,  "  is 
positive  ;  I  am  compelled  to  execute  it.  If  I  were  to  suffer 
you  to  depart,  and  my  superiors  were  to  know  it,  I  should 
lose  my  office  and  incur  the  penalty  of  five  days'  im- 
prisonment." 

I  happened  to  have  a  few  coins  in  my  pocket,  and  put- 
ting in  my  hand,  I  caused  them  to  jingle  a  little  against 
each  other.  "  Your  case  is  a  hard  one,"  said  the  officer, 
"I  suppose  you  are  desirous  to  get  on."  "Yes — my 
preparations  are  all  made,  and  it  will  be  a  great  incon- 
venience for  me  to  remain."  "What  say  you,"  he  called 
out  to  his  companion  who  stood  in  the  door  looking  into  the 
street,  "  shall  we  let  them  pass  ?  They  seem  to  be  decent 
people."  The  young  man  mumbled  some  sort  of  answer. 
"Here,"  said  the  officer,  holding  out  to  me  my  passport, 
but  still  keeping  it  between  his  thumb  and  finger,  "  I  give 
you  back  your  passport,  and  consent  to  your  leaving 
Florence,  but  I  wish  you  particularly  to  consider  that  in  so 
doing,  I  risk  the  loss  of  my  place  and  an  imprisonment  of 
five  days."  He  then  put  the  paper  into  my  hand,  and  I 
put  into  his  the  expected  gratuity.  As  I  went  to  the 
carriage,  he  followed  and  begged  me  to  say  nothing  of  the 


36  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

matter  to  any  one.  I  was  admitted  into  Pisa  with  less 
difficulty.  It  was  already  dark  ;  I  expected  that  my  bag- 
gage would  undergo  a  long  examination  as  usual ;  and  I 
knew  that  I  had  some  dutiable  articles.  To  my  astonish- 
ment, however,  my  trunks  were  allowed  to  pass  without 
being  opened,  or  even  the  payment  of  the  customary 
gratuity.  I  was  told  afterwards  that  my  Italian  servant 
had  effected  this  by  telling  the  custom-house  officers  some 
lie  about  my  being  the  American  Minister. 

Pisa  has  a  delightful  winter  climate,  though  Madame  de 
Stael  has  left  on  record  a  condemnation  of  it,  having  passed 
here  a  season  of  unusually  bad  weather.  Orange  and 
lemon  trees  grow  in  the  open  air,  and  are  now  loaded  with 
ripe  fruit.  The  fields  in  the  environs  are  green  with  grass 
nourished  by  abundant  rains,  and  are  spotted  with  daisies 
in  blossom.  Crops  of  flax  and  various  kinds  of  pulse  are 
showing  themselves  above  the  ground,  a  circumstance 
sufficient  to  show  that  the  cultivators  expect  nothing  like 
what  we  call  winter. 


PRACTICES     OF     THE     ITALIAN     COURTS.  37 


LETTER  V. 

PRACTICES     OF    THE    ITALIAN     COURTS. 

FLORENCE,  May  12,  1835. 

NIGHT  before  last,  a  man-child  was  born  to  the  Grand 
Duke  of  Tuscany,  and  yesterday  was  a  day  of  great  rejoi- 
cing in  consequence.  The  five  hundred  bells  of  Florence 
kept  up  a  horrid  ringing  through  the  day,  and  in  the  even- 
ing the  public  edifices  and  many  private  houses  were  il- 
luminated. To-day  and  to-morrow  the  rejoicings  continue, 
and  in  the  mean  time  the  galleries  and  museums  are  closed, 
lest  idle  people  should  amuse  themselves  rationally.  The 
Tuscans  are  pleased  with  the  birth  of  an  heir  to  the  Duke- 
dom, first  because  the  succession  is  likely  to  be  kept  in 
a  good  sort  of  a  family,  and  secondly  because  for  want  of 
male  children  it  would  have  reverted  to  the  House  of  Aus- 
tria, and  the  province  would  have  been  governed  by  a 
foreigner.  I  am  glad  of  it,  also,  for  the  sake  of  the  poor 
Tuscans,  who  are  a  mild  people,  and  if  they  must  be  under 
a  despotism,  deserve  to  live  under  a  good-natured  one. 

An  Austrian  Prince,  if  he  were  to  govern  Tuscany  as  the 
Emperor  governs  the  Lombardo-Venetian  territory,  would 
introduce  a  more  just  and  efficient  system  of  administering 
4 


38  LETTERS    OF    A     TRAVELLER. 

the  laws  between  man  und  man,  but  at  the  same  time  a  more 
barbarous  severity  to  political  offenders.  I  saw  at  Volterra, 
last  spring,  four  persons  who  were  condemned  at  Florence 
for  an  alleged  conspiracy  against  the  state.  They  were 
walking  with  instruments  of  music  in  their  hands,  on  the 
top  of  the  fortress,  which  commands  an  extensive  view  of 
mountain,  vale,  and  sea,  including  the  lower  Val  d'Arno,  and 
reaching  to  Leghorn,  and  even  to  Corsica.  They  were 
well-dressed,  and  I  was  assured  their  personal  comfort  was 
attended  to.  A  different  treatment  is  the  fate  of  the  state 
prisoners  who  languish  in  the  dungeons  of  Austria.  In  Tus- 
cany no  man's  life  is  taken  for  any  offense  whatever,  and 
banishment  is  a  common  sentence  against  those  who  are 
deemed  dangerous  or  intractable  subjects.  In  all  the  other 
provinces  a  harsher  system  prevails.  In  Sardinia  capital 
executions  for  political  causes  are  frequent,  and  long  and 
mysterious  detentions  are  resorted  to,  as  in  Lombardy,  with  a 
view  to  strike  terror  into  the  minds  of  a  discontented  people. 
The  royal  family  of  Naples  kill  people  by  way  of  amuse- 
ment. Prince  Charles,  a  brother  of  the  king,  sometime  in 
the  month  of  April  last,  found  an  old  man  cutting  myrtle 
twigs  on  some  of  the  royal  hunting-grounds,  of  which  he 
has  the  superintendence.  He  directed  his  attendants  to 
seize  the  offender  and  tie  him  to  a  tree,  and  when  they  had 
done  this  ordered  them  to  shoot  him.  This  they  refused, 
upon  which  he  took  a  loaded  musket  from  the  hands  of 
one  of  them,  and  with  the  greatest  deliberation  shot  him 


A    ROYAL     MURDERER.  39 

dead  upon  the  spot.  His  Royal  Highness  soon  after  set  out 
for  Rome  to  amuse  himself  with  the  ceremonies  of  the  Holy 
Week,  and  to  figure  at  the  balls  given  by  Torlonia  and 
other  Roman  nobles,  where  he  signalized  himself  by  his  at- 
tentions to  the  English  ladies. 

Of  the  truth  of  the  story  I  have  related  I  have  been  as- 
sured by  several  respectable  persons  in  Naples.  About  the 
middle  of  May  I  was  at  the  spot  where  the  murder  was 
said  to  have  been  committed.  It  was  on  the  borders  of  the 
lake  of  Agnano.  We  reached  it  by  a  hollow  winding  road 
cut  deep  through  the  hills  and  rocks  thousands  of  years  ago. 
It  was  a  pretty  and  solitary  spot ;  a  neat  pavilion  of  the  royal 
family  stood  on  the  shore,  and  the  air  was  fragrant  with 
the  blossoms  of  the  white  clover  and  the  innumerable  flowers 
which  the  soil  of  Italy,  for  a  short  season  before  the  summer 
heats  and  drought,  pours  forth  so  profusely.  The  lake  is 
evidently  the  crater  of  an  old  volcano  :  it  lies  in  a  perfect 
bowl  of  hills,  and  the  perpetual  escape  of  gas,  bubbling  up 
through  the  water,  shows  that  the  process  of  chemical  de- 
composition in  the  earth  below  has  not  yet  ceased.  Close 
by,  in  the  side  of  the  circular  hill  that  surrounds  the  lake, 
stands  the  famous  Grotto  del  Cane,  closed  with  a  door  to 
enable  the  keeper  to  get  a  little  money  from  the  foreigners 
who  come  to  visit  it.  You  may  be  sure  I  was  careful  not 
to  trim  any  of  the  myrtles  with  my  penknife. 

But  to  return  to  Tuscany — it  is  after  all  little  better  than 
an  Austrian  province,  like  the  other  countries  of  Italy.  The 


40  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

Grand  Duke  is  a  near  relative  of  the  Emperor;  he  has  the 
rank  of  colonel  in  the  Austrian  service,  and  a  treaty  of 
offense  and  defense  obliges  him  to  take  part  in  the  wars 
of  Austria  to  the  extent  of  furnishing  ten  thousand  soldiers. 
It  is  well  understood  that  he  is  watched  by  the  agents  of  the 
Austrian  Government  here,  who  form  a  sort  of  high  police, 
to  which  he  and  his  cabinet  are  subject,  and  that  he  would 
not  venture  upon  any  measure  of  national  policy,  nor  even 
displace  or  appoint  a  minister,  without  the  consent  of  Met- 
ternich. 

The  birth  of  a  son  to  the  Grand  Duke  has  been  signal- 
ized, I  have  just  learned,  by  a  display  of  princely  munifi- 
cence. Five  thousand  crowns  have  been  presented  to  the 
Archbishop  who  performed  the  ceremony  of  christening  the 
child ;  the  servants  of  the  ducal  household  have  received 
two  months'  wages,  in  addition  to  their  usual  salary ;  five 
hundred  young  women  have  received  marriage  portions  of 
thirty  crowns  each  ;  all  the  articles  of  property  at  the 
great  pawnbroking  establishments  managed  by  goverment, 
pledged  for  a  less  sum  than  four  livres,  have  been  restored 
to  the  owners  without  payment ;  and  finally,  all  persons 
confined  for  larceny  and  other  offences  of  a  less  degree  than 
homicide  and  other  enormous  crimes,  have  been  liberated 
and  turned  loose  upon  society  again.  The  Grand  Duke 
can  well  afford  to  be  generous,  for  from  a  million  and  three 
hundred  thousand  people  he  draws,  by  taxation,  four  mil- 
lions of  crowns  annually,  of  which  a  million  only  is  com- 


WEALTH  OF  THE  GRAND  DUKE.        41 

puted  to  be  expended  in  the  military  and  civil  expenses 
of  his  government.  The  remainder  is  of  course  applied  to 
keeping  up  the  state  of  a  prince  and  to  the  enriching  of 
his  family.  He  passes,  you  know,  for  one  of  the  richest 

potentates  in  Europe. 

4* 


42  LK'l'IKr.  S     OF     .*     TRAVELLER. 


LETTER  VI. 

V  E  N  I C  E. — T  HE     TYROL. 

MUNICH,  August  6,  1835. 

SINCE  my  last  letter  I  have  visited  Venice,  a  city  which 
realizes  the  old  mythological  fable  of  beauty  bom  of  the  sea. 
I  must  confess,  however,  that  my  first  feeling  on  entering 
it  was  that  of  disappointment.  As  we  passed  in  our  gon- 
dola out  of  the  lagoons,  up  one  of  the  numerous  canals, 
which  permeate  the  city  in  every  direction  in  such  a 
manner  that  it  seems  as  if  you  could  only  pass  your  time 
either  within  doors  or  in  a  boat,  the  place  appeared  to  me  a 
vast  assemblage  of  prisons  surrounded  with  their  moats, 
and  I  thought  how  weary  I  should  soon  grow  of  my  island 
prison,  and  how  glad  to  escape  again  to  the  main-land.  But 
this  feeling  quickly  gave  way  to  delight  and  admiration, 
when  I  landed  and  surveyed  the  clean  though  narrow 
streets,  never  incommoded  by  dust  nor  disturbed  by  the 
noise  and  jostling  of  carriages  and  horses,  by  which  you 
may  pass  to  every  part  of  the  city — when  I  looked  again 
at  the  rows  of  superb  buildings,  with  their  marble  steps  as- 
cending out  of  the  water  of  the  canals,  in  which  the 
gondolas  were  shooting  by  each  other — when  I  stood  in  the 


VENETIAN     ARCHITECTURE.  43 

immense  square  of  St.  Mark,  surrounded  by  palaces  resting 
on  arcades,  under  which  the  shops  rival  in  splendor  those 
of  Paris,  and  crowds  of  the  gay  inhabitants  of  both  sexes  as- 
semble towards  evening  and  sit  in  groups  before  the  doors 
of  the  coffee-houses — and  when  I  gazed  on  the  barbaric 
magnificence  of  the  church  of  St.  Mark  and  the  Doge's 
palace,  surrounded  by  the  old  emblems  of  the  power  of 
Venice,  and  overlooking  the  Adriatic,  once  the  empire  of 
the  republic.  The  architecture  of  Venice  has  to  my  eyes, 
something  watery  and  oceanic  in  its  aspect.  Under  the 
hands  of  Palladio,  the  Grecian  orders  seemed  to  borrow  the 
lightness  and  airiness  of  the  Gothic.  As  you  look  at  the 
numerous  windows  and  the  multitude  of  columns  which  give 
a  striated  appearance  to  the  fronts  of  the  palaces,  you  think 
of  stalactites  and  icicles,  such  as  you  might  imagine  to  orna- 
ment the  abodes  of  the  water-gods  and  sea-nymphs.  The 
only  thing  needed  to  complete  the  poetic  illusion  is  trans- 
parency or  brilliancy  of  color,  and  this  is  wholly  wanting ; 
for  at  Venice  the  whitest  marble  is  soon  clouded  and 
blackened  by  the  corrosion  of  the  sea-air. 

It  is  not  my  intention,  however,  to  do  so  hackneyed  a 
thing  as  to  give  a  description  of  Venice.  One  thing,  I  must 
confess,  seemed  to  me  extraordinary  :  how  this  city,  de- 
prived as  it  is  of  the  commerce  which  built  it  up  from  the 
shallows  of  the  Adriatic,  and  upheld  it  so  long  and  so 
proudly,  should  not  have  decayed  even  more  rapidly  than  it 
has  done.  Trieste  has  drawn  from  it  almost  all  its  trade, 


44  LETTERS    OF     A     TRAVELLEB.. 

and  flourishes  by  its  decline.  I  walked  through  the  arsenal 
of  Venice,  which  comprehends  the  Navy  Yard,  an  enormous 
structure,  with  ranges  of  broad  lofty  roofs  supported  by 
massive  portions  of  wall,  and  spacious  dock-yards ;  the 
whole  large  enough  to  build  and  fit  out  a  navy  for  the 
British  empire.  The  pleasure-boats  of  Napoleon  and  his 
empress,  and  that  of  the  present  Viceroy,  are  there  :  but 
the  ships  of  war  belonging  to  the  republic  have  mouldered 
away  with  the  Buceiitaur.  I  saw,  however,  two  Austrian 
vessels,  the  same  which  had  conveyed  the  Polish  exiles  to 
New  York,  lying  under  shelter  in  the  docks,  as  if  placed 
there  to  show  who  were  the  present  masters  of  the  place. 
It  was  melancholy  to  wander  through  the  vast  unoccupied 
spaces  of  this  noble  edifice,  and  to  think  what  must  have 
been  the  riches,  the  power,  the  prosperity,  and  the  hopes  of 
Venice  at  the  time  it  was  built,  and  what  they  are  at  the 
present  moment.  It  seems  almost  impossible  that  any  thing 
should  take  place  to  arrest  the  ruin  which  is  gradually 
consuming  this  renowned  city.  Some  writers  have  asserted 
that  the  lagoons  around  it  are  annually  growing  shallower 
by  the  depositions  of  earth  brought  down  by  streams  from 
the  land,  that  they  must  finally  become  marshes,  and  that 
their  consequent  insalubrity  will  drive  the  inhabitants  from 
Venice.  I  do  not  know  how  this  may  be  ;  but  the  other 
causes  I  have  mentioned  seem  likely  to  produce  nearly  the 
same  effect.  I  remembered,  as  these  ideas  passed  through 
my  mind,  a  passage  in  which  one  of  the  sacred  poets  fore- 


CENEDA.  45 

tells  the  desertion  and  desolation  of  Tyre.  "  the  city  that 
made  itself  glorious  in  the  midst  of  the  seas  " 

"  Thy  riches  and  thy  fairs,  thy  merchandise,  thy  mariners  and  thy 
pilots,  thy  calkers  and  the  occupiers  of  thy  merchandise,  and  all  thy 
men  of  war  that  are  in  thee,  shall  fall  into  the  midst  of  the  seas  in  the 
day  of  thy  ruin." 

I  left  this  most  pleasing  of  the  Italian  cities  which  I  had 
seen,  on  the  24th  of  June,  and  took  the  road  for  the  Tyrol. 
We  passed  through  a  level  fertile  country,  formerly  the 
territory  of  Venice,  watered  by  the  Piave,  which  ran  blood 
in  one  of  Bonaparte's  battles.  At  evening  we  arrived  at 
Ceneda,  where  our  Italian  poet  Da  Ponte  was  born,  situated 
just  at  the  base  of  the  Alps,  the  rocky  peaks  and  irregular 
spires  of  which,  beautifully  green  with  the  showery  season, 
rose  in  the  background.  Ceneda  seems  to  have  something 
of  German  cleanliness  about  it,  and  the  floors  of  a  very  com- 
fortable inn  at  which  we  stopped  were  of  wood,  the  first  we 
had  seen  in  Italy,  though  common  throughout  the  Tyrol  and 
the  rest  of  Germany.  A  troop  of  barelegged  boys,  just 
broke  loose  from  school,  whooping  and  swinging  their  books 
and  slates  in  the  air,  passed  under  my  window.  Such  a 
sight  you  will  not  see  in  southern  Italy.  The  education  of 
the  people  is  neglected,  except  in  those  provinces  which  are 
under  the  government  of  Austria.  It  is  a  government  se- 
vere and  despotic  enough  in  all  conscience,  but  by  provi- 
ding the  means  of  education  for  all  classes,  it  is  doing  more 


4*1  LETTEJIS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

than  it  is  aware  of  to  prepare  them  for  the  enjoyment  of 
free  institutions.  In  the  Lombardo- Venetian  kingdom,  as  it 
is  called,  there  are  few  children  who  do  not  attend  the  pub- 
lic schools. 

On  leaving  Ceneda,  we  entered  a  pass  in  the  mountains, 
the  gorge  of  which  was  occupied  by  the  ancient  town  of 
Serravalle,  resting  on  arcades,  the  architecture  of  which 
denoted  that  it  was  built  during  the  middle  ages.  Near  it 
I  remarked  an  old  castle,  which  formerly  commanded  the 
pass,  one  of  the  finest  ruins  of  the  kind  I  had  ever  seen.  It 
had  a  considerable  extent  of  battlemented  wall  in  perfect 
preservation,  and  both  that  and  its  circular  tower  were  so 
luxuriantly  loaded  with  ivy  that  they  seemed  almost  to 
have  been  cut  out  of  the  living  verdure.  As  we  proceeded 
we  became  aware  how  worthy  this  region  was  to  be  the 
birthplace  of  a  poet.  A  rapid  stream,  a  branch  of  the 
Piave,  tinged  of  a  light  and  somewhat  turbid  blue  by  the 
soil  of  the  mountains,  came  tumbling  and  roaring  down  the 
narrow  valley  ;  perpendicular  precipices  rose  on  each  side  ; 
and  beyond,  the  gigantic  brotherhood  of  the  Alps,  in  two 
long  files  of  steep  pointed  summits,  divided  by  deep  ravines, 
stretched  away  in  the  sunshine  to  the  northeast.  In  the 
face  of  one  the  precipices  by  the  way-side,  a  marble  slab  is 
fixed,  informing  the  traveller  that  the  road  was  opened  by 
the  late  Emperor  of  Germany  in  the  year  1830.  We 
followed  this  romantic  valley  for  a  considerable  distance, 
passing  several  little  blue  lakes  lying  in  their  granite 


A     SNOW     STORM     IN     JUNE.  47 

basins,  one  of  which  is  called  the  Lago  morto  or  Dead 
Lake,  from  having  no  outlet  for  its  waters.  At  length  we 
began  to  ascend,  by  a  winding  road,  the  steep  sides  of  the 
Alps — the  prospect  enlarging  as  we  went,  the  mountain 
summits  rising  to  sight  around  us,  one  behind  another,  some 
of  them  white  with  snow,  over  which  the  wind  blew  with  a 
wintery  keenness — deep  valleys  opening  below  us,  and 
gulfs  yawning  between  rocks  over  which  old  bridges  were 
thrown — and  solemn  fir  forests  clothing  the  broad  declivi- 
ties. The  farm-houses  placed  on  these  heights,  instead  of 
being  of  brick  or  stone,  as  in  the  plains  and  valleys  below, 
were  principally  built  of  wood  ;  the  second  story,  which 
served  for  a  barn,  being  encircled  by  a  long  gallery,  and 
covered  with  a  projecting  roof  of  plank  held  down  with 
large  stones.  We  stopped  at  Venas,  a  wretched  place  with 
a  wretched  inn,  the  hostess  of  which  showed  us  a  chin 
swollen  with  the  goitre,  and  ushered  us  into  dirty  comfort- 
less rooms  where  we  passed  the  night.  When  we  awoke 
the  rain  was  beating  against  the  windows,  and,  on  looking 
out,  the  forest  and  sides  of  the  neighboring  mountains,  at  a 
little  height  above  us,  appeared  hoary  with  snow.  We  set 
out  in  the  rain,  but  had  not  proceeded  far  before  we  heard 
the  sleet  striking  against  the  windows  of  the  carriage,  and 
soon  came  to  where  the  snow  covered  the  ground  to  the 
depth  of  one  or  two  inches.  Continuing  to  ascend,  we 
passed  out  of  Italy  and  entered  the  Tyrol.  The  storm  had 
ceased  before  we  went  through  the  first  Tyrolese  village, 


48  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

and  we  could  not  help  being  struck  with  the  change  in  the 
appearance  of  the  inhabitants — the  different  costume,  the 
less  erect  figures,  the  awkward  gait,  the  lighter  com- 
plexions, the  neatly-kept  habitations,  and  the  absence  of 
beggars.  As  we  advanced,  the  clouds  began  to  roll  off  from 
the  landscape,  disclosing  here  and  there,  through  openings 
in  their  broad  skirts  as  they  swept  along,  glimpses  of  the 
profound  valleys  below  us,  and  of  the  white  sides  and  sum- 
mits of  mountains  in  the  mid-sky  above.  At  length  the  sun 
appeared,  and  revealed  a  prospect  of  such  wildness, 
grandeur,  and  splendor  as  I  had-  never  before  seen.  Lofty 
peaks  of  the  most  fantastic  shapes,  with  deep  clefts  between, 
sharp  needles  of  rocks,  and  overhanging  crags,  infinite  in 
multitude,  shot  up  everywhere  around  us,  glistening  in  the 
new-fallen  snow,  with  thin  wreaths  of  mist  creeping  along 
their  sides.  At  intervals,  swollen  torrents,  looking  at  a  dis- 
tance like  long  trains  of  foam,  came  thundering  down  the 
mountains,  and  crossing  the  road,  plunged  into  the  verdant 
valleys  which  winded  beneath.  Beside  the  highway  were 
fields  of  young  grain,  pressed  to  the  ground  with  the  snow  ; 
and  in  the  meadows,  ranunculuses  of  the  size  of  roses,  large 
yellow  violets,  and  a  thousand  other  Alpine  flowers  of  the 
most  brilliant  hues,  were  peeping  through  their  white 
covering.  We  stopped  to  breakfast  at  a  place  called  Lan- 
dro,  a  solitary  inn,  in  the  midst  of  this  grand  scenery,  with 
a  little  chapel  beside  it.  The  water  from  the  dissolving 
snow  was  dropping  merrily  from  the  roof  in  a  bright  June 


A     TYROL  ESE     HOLIDAY.  49 

sun.  We  needed  not  to  be  told  that  we  were  in  Germany, 
for  we  saw  it  plainly  enough  in  the  nicely-washed  floor  of 
the  apartment  into  which  we  were  shown,  in  the  neat  cup- 
oard  with  the  old  prayer-book  lying  upon  it,  and  in  the 
general  appearance  of  housewifery,  a  quality  unknown  in 
T.taly  ;  to  say  nothing  of  the  evidence  we  had  in  the  beer 
,nd  tobacco-smoke  of  the  travellers'  room,  and  the  guttural 
dialect  and  quiet  tones  of  the  guests. 

7rorn  Landro  we  descended  gradually  into  the  beautiful 
valleys  of  the  Tyrol,  leaving  the  snow  behind,  though  the 
white  peaks  of  the  mountains  were  continually  in  sight. 
At  Bruneck,  in.  an  imi  resplendent  with  neatness — so  at 
least  it  seemed  to  our  eyes  accustomed  to  the  negligence 
und  dirt  of  Italian  housekeeping — we  had  the  first  specimen 
of  a  German  bed.  It  is  narrow  and  short,  and  made  so 
high  at  the  head,  by  a  number  of  huge  square  bolsters  and 
pillows,  that  you  rather  sit  than  lie.  The  principal  cover- 
ing is  a  bag  of  down,  very  properly  denominated  the  uppei 
bed,  and  between  this  and  the  feather-bed  below,  the 
traveller  is  expected  to  pass  the  night.  An  asthmatic 
patient  on  a  cold  winter  night  might  perhaps  find  such  a 
couch  tolerably  comfortable,  if  he  could  prevent  the  narrow 
covering  from  slipping  off  on  one  side  or  the  other.  The 
next  day  we  were  afforded  an  opportunity  of  observing  more 
closely  the  inhabitants  of  this  singular  region,  by  a  festival, 
or  holiday  of  some  sort,  which  brought  them  into  the  roads 
in  great  numbers,  arrayed  in  their  best  dresses — the  men  in 


50  LETTERS    OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

short  jackets  and  small-clothes,  with  broad  gay-colored  sus- 
penders over  their  waistcoats,  and  leathern  belts  ornamented 
with  gold  or  silver  leaf — the  women  in  short  petticoats 
composed  of  horizontal  bands  of  different  colors — and  both 
sexes,  for  the  most  part,  wearing  broad-brimmed  hats  with 
hemispherical  crowns,  though  there  was  a  sugar-loaf  variety 
much  affected  by  the  men,  adorned  with  a  band  of  lace  and 
sometimes  a  knot  of  flowers.  They  are  a  robust,  healthy- 
looking  race,  though  they  have  an  awkward  stoop  in  the 
shoulders.  But  what  struck  me  most  forcibly  was  the 
devotional  habits  of  the  people.  The  Tyrolese  might  be 
cited  as  an  illustration  of  the  remark,  that  mountaineers  are 
more  habitually  and  profoundly  religious  than  others. 
Persons  of  all  sexes,  young  and  old,  whom  we  meet  in  the 
road,  were  repeating  their  prayers  audibly.  We  passed  a 
troop  of  old  women,  all  in  broad-brimmed  hats  arid  short 
gray  petticoats,  carrying  long  staves,  one  of  whom  held  a 
bead-roll  and  gave  out  the  prayers,  to  which  the  others 
made  the  responses  in  chorus.  They  looked  at  us  so 
solemnly  from  under  their  broad  brims,  and  marched  along 
with  so  grave  arid  deliberate  a  pace,  that  I  could  hardly 
help  fancying  that  the  wicked  Austrians  had  caught  a ' 
dozen  elders  of  the  respectable  society  of  Friends,  and  put 
them  in  petticoats  to  punish  them  for  their  heresy.  We 
afterward  saw  persons  going  to  the  labors  of  the  day,  or  re- 
turning, telling  their  rosaries  and  saying  their  prayers  as 
they  went,  as  if  their  devotions  had  been  their  favorite 


NUMEROUS     CHAPELS.  51 

amusement.  At  regular  intervals  of  about  half  a  mile,  we 
saw  wooden  crucifixes  erected  by  the  way-side,  covered  from 
the  weather  with  little  sheds,  bearing  the  image  of  the 
Saviour,  crowned  with  thorns  and  frightfully  dashed  with 
streaks  and  drops  of  red  paint,  to  represent  the  blood  that 
flowed  from  his  wounds.  The  outer  walls  of  the  better 
kind  of  houses  were  ornamented  with  paintings  in  fresco, 
and  the  subjects  of  these  were  mostly  sacred,  such  as  the 
Virgin  and  Child,  the  Crucifixion,  and  the  Ascension.  The 
number  of  houses  of  worship  was  surprising  ;  I  do  not 
mean  spacious  or  stately  churches  such  as  we  meet  with  in 
Italy,  but  most  commonly  little  chapels  dispersed  so  as  best 
to  accommodate  the  population.  Of  these  the  smallest 
neighborhood  has  one  for  the  morning  devotions  of  its  in- 
habitants, and  even  the  solitary  inn  has  its  little  consecrated 
building  with  its  miniature  spire,  for  the  convenience  of 
pious  wayfarers.  At  Sterzing,  a  little  village  beautifully 
situated  at  the  base  of  the  mountain  called  the  Brenner,  and 
containing,  as  I  should  judge,  not  more  than  two  or  three 
thousand  inhabitants,  we  counted  seven  churches  and 
chapels  within  the  compass  of  a  square  mile.  The  observ- 
ances of  the  Roman  Catholic  church  are  nowhere  more 
rigidly  complied  with  than  in  the  Tyrol.  When  we  stop- 
ped at  Bruneck  on  Friday  evening,  I  happened  to  drop  a 
word  about  a  little  meat  for  dinner  in  a  conversation  with 
the  spruce-looking  landlady,  who  appeared  so  shocked  that 
I  gave  up  the  point,  on  the  promise  of  some  excellent  and 


OZ  LETTERS    OF    A    TRAVELLER. 

remarkably  well-flavored  trout  from  the  stream  that  flowed 
through  the  village — a  promise  that  was  literally  fulfilled. 
At  the  post-house  on  the  Brenner,  where  we  stopped  on 
Saturday  evening,  we  were  absolutely  refused  any  thing  but 
soup-maigre  and  fish  ;  the  postmaster  telling  us  that  the 
priest  had  positively  forbidden  meat  to  be  given  to  travellers. 
Think  of  that ! — that  we  who  had  eaten  wild-boar  and 
pheasants  on  Good  Friday,  at  Rome,  under  the  very  nostrils 
of  the  Pope  himself  and  his  whole  conclave  of  Cardinals, 
should  be  refused  a  morsel  of  flesh  on  an  ordinary  Saturday, 
at  a  tavern  on  a  lonely  mountain  in  the  Tyrol,  by  the 
orders  of  a  parish  priest !  Before  getting  our  soup-maigre. 
we  witnessed  another  example  of  Tyrolese  devotion.  Eight 
or  ten  travellers,  apparently  laboring  men,  took  possession 
of  the  entrance  hall  of  the  inn,  and  kneeling,  poured  forth 
their  orisons  in  the  German  language  for  half  an  hour  with 
no  small  appearance  of  fervency.  In  the  morning  .when 
we  were  ready  to  set  out,  we  inquired  for  our  coachman,  an 
Italian,  and  found  that  he  too,  although  not  remarkably  re- 
ligious, had  caught  something  of  the  spirit  of  the  place,  and 
was  at  the  Gotteslutus,  as  the  waiter  called  the  tavern 
chapel,  offering  his  morning  prayers. 

"VYe  descended  the  Brenner  on  the  28th  of  June  in  a 
snow-storm,  the  wind  whirling  the  light  flakes  in  the  air  as 
it  does  with  us  in  winter.  It  changed  to  rain,  however,  as 
we  approached  the  beautiful  and  picturesque  valley  watered 
by  the  river  Ian,  on  the  banks  of  which  stands  the  fine  old 


JNNSBKUCK.  53 

town  of  Innsbruck,  the  capital  of  the  Tyrol.  Here  we  vis- 
ited the  Church  of  the  Holy  Cross,  in  which  is  the  bronze 
tomb  of  Maximilian  I.  and  twenty  or  thirty  bronze  statues 
ranged  on  each  side  of  the  nave,  representing  fierce  warrior 
chiefs,  and  gowned  prelates,  and  stately  damsels  of  the  mid- 
dle ages.  These  are  all  curious  for  the  costume  ;  the  war- 
riors are  cased  in  various  kinds  of  ancient  armor,  and 
brandish  various  ancient  weapons,  and  the  robes  of  the 
females  are  flowing  and  by  no  means  ungraceful.  Almost 
every  one  of  the  statues  has  its  hands  and  fingers  in  some 
constrained  and  awkward  position  ;  as  if  the  artist  knew  as 
little  what  to  do  with  them  as  some  awkward  and  bashful 
people  know  what  to  do  with  their  own.  Such  a  crowd  of 
figures  in  that  ancient  garb,  occupying  the  floor  in  the  midst 
of  the  living  worshipers  of  the  present  day,  has  an  effect 
which  at  first  is  startling.  From  Innsbruck  we  climbed 
and  crossed  another  mountain-ridge,  scarcely  less  wild  and 
majestic  in  its  scenery  than  those  we  had  left  behind.  On 
descending,  we  observed  that  the  crucifixes  had  disappeared 
from  the  roads,  and  the  broad-brimmed  and  sugar-loaf  hats 
from  the  heads  of  the  peasantry ;  the  men  wore  hats  con- 
tracted in  the  middle  of  the  crown  like  an  hour-glass,  and 
the  women  caps  edged  with  a  broad  band  of  black  fur,  the 
frescoes  on  the  outside  of  the  houses  became  less  frequent ; 
in  short  it  was  apparent  that  we  had  entered  a  different 
region,  even  if  the  custom-house  and  police  officers  on  the 
frontier  had  not  signified  to  us  that  we  were  now  in  the 
5* 


54  LETTERS    OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

kingdom  of  Bavaria.  We  passed  through  extensive  forests 
of  fir,  here  and  there  checkered  with  farms,  and  finally 
came  to  the  broad  elevated  plain  bathed  by  the  Isar,  in 
which  Munich  is  situated. 


QUADRUPEDS    AN]/    B  I  il  i)  j>     OF    Till;    I'll  A  FRIES.    55 


LETTER   VII. 

AN    EXCURSION     TO    ROCK     RIVER. 

PRINCETON,  Illinois,  June  21,  1841. 

I  HAVE  just  returned  from  au  excursion  to  Rock  River, 
one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  our  western  streams. 

We  left  Princeton  on  the  17th  of  the  month,  and  after 
passing  a  belt  of  forest  which  conceals  one  of  the  branches 
of  the  Bureau  River,  found  ourselves  upon  the  wide,  un- 
fenced  prairie,  spreading  away  on  every  side  until  it  met 
the  horizon.  Flocks  of  turtle-doves  rose  from  our  path 
scared  at  our  approach  ;  quails  and  rabbits  were  seen  run- 
ning before  us  ;  the  prairie-squirrel,  a  little  striped  animal 
of  the  marmot  kind,  crossed  the  road ;  we  started  plovers 
by  the  dozen,  and  now  and  then  a  prairie-hen,  which  flew 
off  heavily  into  the  grassy  wilderness.  With  these  animals 
the  open  country  is  populous,  but  they  have  their  pursuers 
and  destroyers  ;  not  the  settlers  of  the  region,  for  they  do  not 
shoot  often  except  at  a  deer  or  a  wild  turkey,  or  a  noxious 
animal ;  but  the  prairie-hawk,  the  bald-eagle,  the  mink,  and 
the  prairie-wolf,  which  make  merciless  havoc  among  them 
and  their  brood. 

About  fifteen  miles  we  came  to  Dad  Joe's  Grove,  in  the 


56  LETTERS    OF    A     TRAVELLER. 

shadow  of  which,  thirteen  years  ago,  a  settler  named  Joe 
Smith,  Avho  had  fought  in  the  battle  of  the  Thames,  one  of 
the  first  white  inhabitants  of  this  region,  seated  himself,  and 
planted  his  corn,  and  gathered  his  crops  quietly,  through 
the  whole  Indian  war,  without  being  molested  by  the 
savages,  though  he  was  careful  to  lead  his  wife  and  family 
to  a  place  of  security.  As  Smith  was  a  settler  of  such  long 
standing,  he  was  looked  to  as  a  kind  of  patriarch  in  the 
county,  and  to  distinguish  him  from  other  Joe  Smiths, 
he  received  the  venerable  appellation  of  Dad.  He  has 
since  removed  to  another  part  of  the  state,  but  his  well- 
known,  hospitable  cabin,  inhabited  by  another  inmate,  is 
still  there,  and  his  grove  of  tall  trees,  standing  on  a  ridge 
amidst  the  immense  savannahs,  yet  retains  his  name.  As 
we  descended  into  the  prairie  we  were  struck  with  the 
novelty  and  beauty  of  the  prospect  which  lay  before  us. 
The  ground  sank  gradually  and  gently  into  a  low  but 
immense  basin,  in  the  midst  of  which  lies  the  marshy 
tract  called  the  Winnebago  Swamp.  To  the  northeast  the 
sight  was  intercepted  by  a  forest  in  the  midst  of  the  basin, 
but  to  the  northwest  the  prairies  were  seen  swelling  up 
again  in  the  smoothest  slopes  to  their  usual  height,  and 
Stretching  away  to  a  distance  so  vast  that  it  seemed  bold- 
ness in  the  eye  to  follow  them. 

The  Winnebagoes  and  other  Indian  tribes  which  formerly 
possessed  this  country  have  left  few  memorials  of  their 
existence,  except  the  names  of  places.  Now  and  then,  as 


LOST     ROCKS. DIXON.  57 

at  Indiantown,  near  Princeton,  you  are  shown  the  holes  in 
the  ground  where  they  stored  their  maize,  and  sometimes 
on  the  borders  of  the  rivers  you  see  the  trunks  of  trees 
which  they  felled,  evidently  hacked  by  their  tomahawks, 
but  perhaps  the  most  remarkable  of  their  remains  are  the 
paths  across  the  prairies  or  beside  the  large  streams,  called 
Indian  trails — narrow  and  well-beaten  ways,  sometimes  a 
foot  in  depth,  and  many  of  them  doubtless  trodden  for  hun- 
dreds of  years. 

As  we  went  down  the  ridge  upon  which  stands  Dad 
Joe's  Grove,  we  saw  many  boulders  of  rock  lying  on  the 
surface  of  the  soil  of  the  prairies.  The  western  people, 
naturally  puzzled  to  tell  how  they  came  there,  give  them 
the  expressive  name  of  "  lost  rocks."  We  entered  a  forest 
of  scattered  oaks,  and  after  travelling  for  half  an  hour 
reached  the  Winnebago  Swamp,  a  tract  covered  with  tall 
and  luxuriant  water-grass,  which  we  crossed  on  a  causey 
built  by  a  settler  who  keeps  a  toll-gate,  and  at  the  end  of 
the  causey  we  forded  a  small  stream  called  Winnebago 
Inlet.  Crossing  another  vast  prairie  we  reached  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Dixon,  the  approach  to  which  was  denoted  by 
groves,  farm-houses,  herds  of  cattle,  and  inclosed  corn  fields, 
checkering  the  broad  green  prairie. 

Dixon,  named  after  an  ancient  settler  of  the  place  still 
living,  is  a  country  town  situated  on  a  high  bank  of  Rock 
Eiver.  Five  years  ago  two  log-cabins  only  stood  on  the 
solitary  shore,  and  now  it  is  a  considerable  village,  with 


58  LETTERS    OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

many  neat  dwellings,  a  commodious  court-house,  several 
places  of  worship  for  the  good  people,  and  a  jail  for  the 
rogues,  built  with  a  triple  wall  of  massive  logs,  but  I  was 
glad  to  see  that  it  had  no  inmate. 

Rock  River  flows  through  high  prairies,  and  not,  like 
most  streams  of  the  West,  through  an  alluvial  country. 
The  current  is  rapid,  and  the  pellucid  waters  glide  over  a 
bottom  of  sand  and  pebbles.  Its  admirers  declare  that  its 
shores  unite  the  beauties  of  the  Hudson  and  of  the  Con- 
necticut. The  banks  on  either  side  are  high  and  bold ; 
sometimes  they  are  perpendicular  precipices,  the  base  of 
which  stands  in  the  running  water ;  sometimes  they  are 
steep  grassy  or  rocky  bluffs,  with  a  space  of  dry  alluvial 
land  between  them  and  the  stream ;  sometimes  they  rise 
by  a  gradual  and  easy  ascent  to  the  general  level  of  the 
region,  and  sometimes  this  ascent  is  interrupted  by  a  broad 
natural  terrace.  Majestic  trees  grow  solitary  or  in  clumps 
on  the  grassy  acclivities,  or  scattered  in  natural  parks  along 
the  lower  lands  upon  the  river,  or  in  thick  groves  along  the 
edge  of  the  high  country.  Back  of  the  bluffs,  extends  a  fine 
agricultural  region,  rich  prairies  with  an  undulating  surface, 
interspersed  with  groves.  At  the  foot  of  the  bluffs  break 
forth  copious  springs  of  clear  water,  which  hasten  in  little 
brooks  to  the  river.  In  a  drive  which  I  took  up  the  left 
bank  of  the  river,  I  saw  three  of  these  in  the  space  of  as 
many  miles.  One  of  these  is  the  spring  which  supplies  the 
town  of  Dixon  with  water  ;  the  next  is  a  beautiful  fountain 


ROCK     RIVER.  59 

rushing  out  from  the  rocks  in  the  midst  of  a  clump  of  trees, 
as  merrily  and  in  as  great  a  hurry  as  a  boy  let  out  of  school : 
the  third  is  so  remarkable  as  to  have  received  a  name.  It 
is  a  little  rivulet  issuing  from  a  cavern  six  or  seven  feet 
high,  and  about  twenty  from  the  entrance  to  the  further 
end,  at  the  foot  of  a  perpendicular  precipice  covered  with 
forest-trees  and  fringed  with  bushes. 

In  the  neighborhood  of  Dixon,  a  class  of  emigrants  have 
established  themselves,  more  opulent  and  more  luxurious  in 
their  tastes  than  most  of  the  settlers  of  the  western  country 
Some  of  these  have  built  elegant  mansions  on  the  left  bank 
of  the  river,  amidst  the  noble  trees  which  seem  to  have 
grown  up  for  that  very  purpose.  Indeed,  when  I  looked  at 
them,  I  could  hardly  persuade  myself  that  they  had  not 
been  planted  to  overshadow  older  habitations.  From  the 
door  of  one  of  these  dwellings  I  surveyed  a  prospect  of 
exceeding  beauty.  The  windings  of  the  river  allowed  us  a 
sight  of  its  waters  and  its  beautifully  diversified  banks  to  a 
great  distance  each  way,  and  in  one  direction  a  high  prairie 
region  was  seen  above  the  woods  that  fringed  the  course  of 
this  river,  of  a  lighter  green  than  they,  and  touched  with 
the  golden  light  of  the  setting  sun. 

I  am  told  that  the  character  of  Rock  River  is,  throughout 
its  course,  much  as  I  have  described  it  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Dixon,  that  its  banks  are  high  and  free  from  marshes, 
and  its  waters  rapid  and  clear,  from  its  source  in  Wisconsin 
to  where  it  enters  the  Mississippi  amidst  rocky  islands. 


60  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 


What  should  make  its  shores  unhealthy  I  can  not  see,  yet 
they  who  inhabit  them  are  much  subject  to  intermittent 
fevers.  They  tell  you  very  quietly  that  every  body  who 
comes  to  live  there  must  take  a  seasoning.  I  suppose  that 
when  this  country  becomes  settled  this  will  no  longer  be 
the  case.  Rock  River  is  not  much  subject  to  inundations, 
nor  do  its  waters  become  very  low  in  summer.  A  project 
is  on  foot,  I  am  told,  to  navigate  it  with  steam-vessels  of  a 
light  draught. 

When  I  arrived  at  Dixon  I  was  told  that  the  day  before 
a  man  named  Bridge,  living  at  Washington  Grove,  in  Ogle 
county,  came  into  town  and  complained  that  he  had  re- 
ceived notice  from  a  certain  association  that  he  must  leave 
the  county  before  the  seventeenth  of  the  month,  or  that  he 
would  be  looked  upon  as  a  proper  subject  for  Lynch  law. 
He  asked  for  assistance  to  defend  his  person  and  dwelling 
against  the  lawless  violence  of  these  men.  The  people  of 
Dixon  county  came  together  and  passed  a  resolution  to  the 
effect,  that  they  approved  fully  of  what  the  inhabitants  of 
Ogle  county  had  done,  and  that  they  allowed  Mr.  Bridge 
the  term  of  four  hours  to  depart  from  the  town  of  Dixon.  He 
went  away  immediately,  and  in  great  trepidation.  This 
Bridge  is  a  notorious  confederate  and  harborer  of  horsc- 
thieves  and  counterfeiters.  The  thinly-settled  portions  of 
Illinois  are  much  exposed  to  the  depredations  of  horse- 
thieves,  who  have  a  kind  of  centre  of  operations  in  Ogle 
county,  where  it  is  said  that  they  have  a  justice  of  the 


HORSE-THIEVES.  61 

peace  and  a  constable  among  their  own  associates,  and 
where  they  contrive  to  secure  a  friend  on  the  jury  when- 
ever any  one  of  their  number  is  tried.  Trial  after  trial 
has  taken  place,  and  it  has  been  found  impossible  to  obtain 
a  conviction  on  the  clearest,  evidence,  until  last  April,  when 
two  horse-thieves  being  on  trial  eleven  of  the  jury  threat- 
ened the  twelfth  with  a  taste  of  the  cowskin  unless  he 
would  bring  in  a  verdict  of  guilty.  He  did  so,  and  the  men 
were  condemned.  Before  they  were  removed  to  the  state- 
prison,  the  court-house  was  burnt  down  and  the  jail  was  in 
flames,  but  luckily  they  were  extinguished  without  the 
liberation  of  the  prisoners.  Such  at  length  became  the 
general  feeling  of  insecurity,  that  three  hundred  citizens  of 
Ogle  county,  as  T  understand,  have  formed  themselves  into 
a  company  of  volunteers  for  the  purpose  of  clearing  the 
county  of  these  men.  Two  horse-thieves  have  been  seized 
and  flogged,  and  Bridge,  their  patron,  has  been  ordered  to 
remove  or  abide  the  consequences. 

As  we  were  returning  from  Dixon  on  the  morning  of  the 
1 9th,  we  heard  a  kind  of  humming  noise  in  the  grass,  which 
one  of  the  company  said  proceeded  from  a  rattlesnake.  "We 
dismounted  and  found  in  fact  it  was  made  by  a  prairie- 
rattlesnake,  which  lay  coiled  around  a  tuft  of  herbage,  and 
which  we  soon  dispatched.  The  Indians  call  this  small 
variety  of  the  rattlesnake,  the  Massasauger.  Horses  are  fre- 
quently bitten  by  it  and  come  to  the  doors  of  their  owners 
with  their  heads  horribly  swelled  but  they  are  recovered  by 


62  LETTERS    OF    A     TRAVELLER. 

the  application  of  hartshorn.  A  little  further  on,  one  of  the 
party  raised  the  cry  of  wolf,  and  looking  we  saw  a  prairie- 
wolf  in  the  path  before  us,  a  prick-eared  animal  of  a  reddish- 
gray  color,  standing  and  gazing  at  us  with  great  composure. 
As  we  approached,  he  trotted  off  into  the  grass,  with  his 
nose  near  the  ground,  not  deigning  to  hasten  his  pace  for  our 
shouts,  and  shortly  afterward  we  saw  two  others  running 
in  a  different  direction. 

The  prairie-wolf  is  not  so  formidable  an  animal  as  the 
name  of  wolf  would  seem  to  denote  ;  he  is  quite  as  great  a 
coward  as  robber,  but  he  is  exceedingly  mischievous.  He 
never  takes  full-grown  sheep  unless  he  goes  with  a  strong 
troop  of  his  friends,  but  seizes  young  lambs,  carries  off 
sucking-pigs,  robs  the  henroost,  devours  sweet  corn  in  the 
gardens,  and  plunders  the  water-melon  patch.  A  herd  of 
prairie-wolves  will  enter  a  field  of  melons  and  quarrel  about 
the  division  of  the  spoils  as  fiercely  and  noisily  as  so  many 
politicians.  It  is  their  way  to  gnaw  a  hole  immediately 
into  the  first  melon  they  lay  hold  of.  If  it  happens  to  be 
ripe,  the  inside  is  devoured  at  once,  if  not,  it  is  dropped  and 
another  is  sought  out,  and  a  quarrel  is  picked  with  the  dis- 
coverer of  a  ripe  one,  and  loud  and  shrill  is  the  barking,  and 
fierce  the  growling  and  snapping  which  is  heard  on  these 
occasions.  It  is  surprising,  I  am  told,  with  what  dexterity 
a  wolf  will  make  the  most  of  a  melon,  absorbing  every  rem- 
nant of  the  pulp,  and  hollowing  it  out  as  clean  as  it  could 
be  scraped  by  a  spoon.  This  is  when  the  allowance  of 


THE     WILD     PARSNIP.  63 

melons  is  scarce,  but  when  they  are  abundant  he  is  as  care- 
less and  wasteful  as  a  government  agent. 

Enough  of  natural  history.  I  will  finish  my  letter  an- 
other day. 

June  26<A. 

Let  me  caution  all  emigrants  to  Illinois  not  to  handle  too 
familiarly  the  "wild  parsnip,"  as  it  is  commonly  called,  an 
umbelliferous  plant  growing  in  the  moist  prairies  of  this 
region.  I  have  handled  it  and  have  paid  dearly  for  it, 
having  such  a  swelled  face  that  I  could  scarcely  see  for 
several  days. 

The  regulators  of  Ogle  county  removed  Bridge's  family  on 
Monday  last  and  demolished  his  house.  He  made  prepara- 
tions to  defend  himself,  and  kept  twenty  armed  men  about 
him  for  two  days,  but  thinking,  at  last,  that  the  regulators 
did  not  mean  to  carry  their  threats  into  effect,  he  dismissed 
them.  He  has  taken  refuge  with  his  friends,  the  Aikin 
family,  who  live,  I  believe,  in  JefFerson  Grove,  in  the  same 
county,  and  who,  it  is  said,  have  also  received  notice  to  quit. 


64  LETTERS    OF    A    TRAVELLER. 


LETTER    VIII. 

EXAMPLES    OF    LYNCH    LAW. 

PRINCETON,  Illinois,  July  2,  1841. 

IN  my  last  letter  I  mentioned  that  the  regulators  in  Ogle 
county,  on  Rock  River,  in  this  state,  had  pulled  down  the 
house  of  one  Bridge,  living  at  Washington  Grove,  a  well- 
known  confederate  of  the  horse-thieves  and  coiners  with 
which  this  region  is  infested. 

Horse-thieves  are  numerous  in  this  part  of  the  country. 
A  great  number  of  horses  are  bred  here ;  you  see  large 
herds  of  them  feeding  in  the  open  prairies,  and  at  this  sea- 
son of  the  year  every  full-grown  mare  has  a  colt  running  by 
her  side.  Most  of  the  thefts  are  committed  early  in  the  spring, 
when  the  grass  begins  to  shoot,  and  the  horses  are  turned 
out  on  the  prairie,  and  the  thieves,  having  had  little  or  no 
employment  during  the  winter,  are  needy ;  or  else  in 
the  autumn,  when  the  animals  are  kept  near  the  dwellings 
of  their  owners  to  be  fed  with  Indian  corn  and  are  in 
excellent  order,  The  thieves  select  the  best  from  the  drove, 
and  these  are  passed  from  one  station  to  another  till  they 
arrive  at  some  distant  market  where  they  are  sold.  It  is 
said  that  they  have  their  regular  lines  of  communication 


REGULATORS.  65 

from  Wisconsin  to  St.  Louis,  arid  from  the  Wabash  to  the 
Mississippi,  In  Ogle  county  they  seem  to  have  been  bolder 
than  elsewhere,  and  more  successful,  notwithstanding  the 
notoriety  of  their  crimes,  in  avoiding  punishment.  The 
impossibility  of  punishing  them  by  process  of  law,  the 
burning  of  the  court-house  at  Oregon  City  last  April,  and 
the  threats  of  deadly  vengeance  thrown  out  by  them  against 
such  as  should  attempt  to  bring  them  to  justice,  led  to  the 
formation  of  a  company  of  citizens,  "  regulators"  they  call 
themselves,  who  resolved  to  take  the  law  into  their  own 
hands  and  drive  the  felons  from  the  neighborhood.  This 
is  not  the  first  instance  of  the  kind  which  has  happened 
in  Illinois.  Some  twenty  years  since  the  southern  counties 
contained  a  gang  of  horse-thieves,  so  numerous  and  well- 
organized  as  to  defy  punishment  by  legal  means,  and  they 
were  expelled  by  the  same  method  which  is  now  adopted  in 
Ogle  county. 

I  have  just  learned,  since  I  wrote  the  last  sentence,  that 
the  society  of  regulators  includes,  not  only  the  county  of 
Ogle,  but  those  of  De  Kalb  and  Winnebago,  where  the 
depredations  of  the  horse-thieves  and  the  perfect  imprnity 
with  which  they  manage  to  exercise  their  calling,  have  ex- 
hausted the  patience  of  the  inhabitants.  In  those  counties, 
as  well  as  in  Ogle,  their  patrons  live  at  some  of  the  finest 
groves,  where  they  own  large  farms.  Ten  or  twenty  stolen 
horses  will  be  brought  to  one  of  these  places  of  a  night,  and 
before  sunrise  the  desperadoes  employed  to  take  them  are 


G6  L-TTF.  T.-5     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

again  mounted  and  ou  their  way  to  some  other  station.  In 
breaking  up  these  haunts,  the  regulators,  I  understand,  have 
proceeded  with  some  of  the  formalities  commonly  usod  in 
administering  justice.  The  accused  party  has  been  allowed 
to  make  his  defense,  and  witnesses  have  been  examined 
both  for  and  against  him 

These  proceedings,  however,  have  lately  suffered  a  mosf 
tragical  interruption.  Not  long  after  Bridge's  house  waf 
pulled  down,  two  men,  mounted  and  carrying  rifles,  called 
at  the  dwelliug  of  a  Mr  Campbell,  living  at  Whiterock 
Grove,  in  Ogle  county,  who  belonged  to  the  company  of 
regulators,  and  who  had  acted  as  the  messenger  to  convey 
to  Bridge  the  order  to  leave  the  county.  Meeting  Mrs. 
Campbell  without  the  house,  they  told  her  that  they  wished 
to  speak  to  her  husband.  Campbell  made  his  appearance 
at  the  door  and  immediately  both  the  men  fired.  He  fell 
mortally  wounded  and  lived  but  a  few  minutes.  "You 
have  killed  my  husband,"  said  Mrs.  Campbell  to  one  of  the 
murderers  whose  name  was  Driscoll.  Upon  this  they  rode 
off  at  full  speed. 

As  soon  as  the  event  was  known  the  whole  country  was 
roused,  and  every  man  who  was  not  an  associate  of  the 
horse-thieves,  shouldered  his  rifle  to  go  in  pursuit  of  the 
murderers.  They  apprehended  the  father  of  Driscoll,  a 
man  nearly  seventy  years  of  age,  and  one  of  his  sons,  Wil- 
liam Driscoll,  the  former  a  reputed  horse-thief,  and  the 
latter,  a  man  who  had  hitherto  borne  a  tolerably  fair  char- 


AN  EXECUTION  BY  THE  REGULATORS.     67 

acter.  and  subjected  them  to  a  separate  examination.  The 
father  was  wary  in  hi's  answers,  and  put  on  the  appear- 
ance of  perfect  innocence,  but  William  Driscoll  was  greatly 
agitated,  and  confessed  that  he,  with  his  father  and  others, 
had  planned  the  murder  of  Campbell,  and  that  David 
Driscoll,  his  brother,  together  with  another  associate,  was 
employed  to  execute  it.  The  father  and  son  were  then 
sentenced  to  death  ;  they  were  bound  and  made  to  kneel ; 
about  fifty  men  took  aim  at  each,  and,  in  three  hours  from 
the  time  they  were  taken,  they  were  dead  men.  A  pit  was 
dug  on  the  spot  where  they  fell,  in  the  midst  of  a  prairie 
near  their  dwelling ;  their  corpses,  pierced  with  bullet-holes 
in  every  part,  were  thrown  in,  and  the  earth  was  heaped 
over  them. 

The  -pursuit  of  David  Driscoll  and  the  fellow  who  was 
with  him  when  Campbell  was  killed,  is  still  going  on  with 
great  activity.  More  than  a  hundred  men  are  traversing  the 
country  in  different  directions,  determined  that  no  lurking- 
place  shall  hide  them.  In  the  mean  time  various  persons 
who  have  the  reputation  of  being  confederates  of  horse- 
thieves,  not  only  in  Ogle  county,  but  in  the  adjoining  ones, 
even  in  this,  have  received  notice  from  the  regulators  that 
they  cannot  be  allowed  to  remain  in  this  part  of  the  state. 
Several  suspicious-looking  men,  supposed  to  be  fugitives 
from  Ogle  county,  have  been  seen,  within  a  few  days  past, 
lurking  in  the  woods  not  far  from  this  place.  One  of  them 
who  was  seen  the  day  before  yesterday  evidently  thought 


68  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

himself  pursued  and  slunk  from  sight ;  he  was  followed, 
but  'escaped  in  the  thickets  leaving  a  bundle  of  clothing 
behind  him. 

SAMONOK,  Kane  County,  Illinois,  July  5th. 
I  have  just  heard  that  another  of  the  Driscolls  has  been 
shot  by  the  regulators.    Whether  it  was  David,  who  fired  at 
Campbell,  or  one  of  his  brothers,  1  can  not  learn. 


G  ULliNOUGll'S     WASHINGTON.  69 


LETTER  IX. 

RICHMOND    IN    VIRGINIA. 

RICHMOND,  Virginia,  March  2,  1843. 

I  ARRIVED  at  this  place  last  night  from  Washington, 
where  I  had  observed  little  worth  describing.  The  statue  of 
our  first  President,  by  Greenough,  was,  of  course,  one  of  the 
things  which  I  took  an  early  opportunity  of  looking  at,  and 
although  the  bad  light  in  which  it  is  placed  prevents  the 
spectator  from  properly  appreciating  the  features,  I  could 
not  help  seeing  with  satisfaction,  that  no  position,  however 
unfavorable,  could  impair  the  majesty  of  that  noble  work, 
or,  at  all  events,  destroy  its  grand  general  effect. 

The  House  of  Representatives  I  had  not  seen  since  1832, 
and  I  perceived  that  the  proceedings  were  conducted  with 
less  apparent  decorum  than  formerly,  and  that  the  members 
no  longer  sat  with  their  hats  on.  Whether  they  had  come 
to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  well  to  sit  uncovered,  in  order 
to  make  up,  by  this  token  of  mutual  respect,  for  the  too 
frequent  want  of  decorum  in  their  proceedings,  or  whether  the 
change  has  been  made  because  it  so  often  happens  that  all 
the  members  are  talking  together,  the  rule  being  that  the 
person  speaking  must  be  bareheaded,  or  whether,  finally,  it 


70  LETTERS    OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

was  found,  during  the  late  long  summer  sessions,  that  a  hat 
made  the  wearer  really  uncomfortable,  are  questions  which 
I  asked  on  the  spot,  but  to  which  I  got  no  satisfactory 
answer.  I  visited  the  Senate  Chamber,  and  saw  a  member 
of  that  dignified  body,  as  somebody  calls  it,  in  preparing  to 
make  a  speech,  blow  his  nose  with  his  thumb  and  finger 
without  the  intervention  of  a  pocket-handkerchief.  The 
speech,  after  this  graceful  preliminary,  did  not,  I  confess, 
disappoint  me. 

Whoever  goes  to  Washington  should  by  all  means  see  the 
Museum  at  the  Patent  Office,  enriched  by  the  collections 
lately  brought  back  by  the  expedition  sent  out  to  explore 
the  Pacific.  I  was  surprised  at  the  extent  and  variety  of 
these  collections.  Dresses,  weapons,  and  domestic  imple- 
ments of  savage  nations,  in  such  abundance  as  to  leave,  one 
would  almost  think,  their  little  tribes  disfurnished ;  birds  of 
strange  shape  and  plumage ;  fishes  of  remote  waters ; 
whole  groves  of  different  kinds  of  coral ;  sea-shells  of  rare 
form  and  singular  beauty  from  the  most  distant  shores ; 
mummies  from  the  caves  of  Peru  ;  curious  minerals  and 
plants :  whoever  is  interested  by  such  objects  as  these 
should  give  the  museum  a  more  leisurely  examination  than 
I  had  time  to  do.  The  persons  engaged  in  arranging  and 
putting  up  these  collections  were  still  at  their  task  when  I 
was  at  Washington,  and  I  learned  that  what  I  saw  was  by 
no  means  the  whole. 

The  night  before  we  set  out,  snow  fell  to  the  depth  of 


VIUGINIA     PLANTATIONS.  71 

three  inches,  aud  as  the  steamboat  passed  down  the 
Potomac,  we  saw,  at  sunrise,  the  grounds  of  Mount  Vernon 
lying  in  a  covering  of  the  purest  white,  the  snow,  scattered 
in  patches  on  the  thick  foliage  of  cedars  that  skirt  the 
river,  looking  like  clusters  of  blossoms.  About  twelve,  the 
steamboat  came  to  land,  and  the  railway  took  us  through 
a  gorge  of  the  woody  hills  that  skirt  the  Potomac.  In 
about  an  hour,  we  were  at  Fredericksburg,  on  the  Rappa- 
hannock.  The  day  was  bright  and  cold,  and  the  wind  keen 
and  cutting.  A  crowd  of  negroes  came  about  the  cars, 
with  cakes,  fruit,  and  other  refreshments.  The  poor  fel- 
lows seemed  collapsed  with  the  unusual  cold ;  their  faces 
and  lips  were  of  the  color  which  drapers  call  blue-black. 

As  we  proceeded  southward  in  Virginia,  the  snow  gradu- 
ally became  thinner  and  finally  disappeared  altogether.  It 
was  impossible  to  mistake  the  region  in  which  we  were. 
Broad  inclosures  were  around  us,  with  signs  of  extensive  and 
superficial  cultivation ;  large  dwellings  were  seen  at  a  dis- 
tance from  each  other,  and  each  with  its  group  of  smaller 
buildings,  looking  as  solitary  and  chilly  as  French  chateaus ; 
and,  now  and  then,  we  saw  a  gang  of  negroes  at  work  in 
the  fields,  though  oftener  we  passed  miles  without  the  sight 
of  a  living  creature.  At  six  in  the  afternoon,  we  arrived  at 
Richmond. 

A  beautiful  city  is  Richmond,  seated  on  the  hills  that 
overlook  the  James  River.  The  dwellings  have  a  pleasant 
appearance,  often  standing  by  themselves  in  the  midst  of 


72  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

gardens.  In  front  of  several,  I  saw  large  magnolias,  their 
dark,  glazed  leaves  glittering  in  the  March  sunshine.  The 
river,  as  yellow  as  the  Tiber,  its  waters  now  stained  with 
the  earth  of  the  upper  country,  runs  by  the  upper  part  of 
the  town  in  noisy  rapids,  embracing  several  islands,  shaded 
with  the  plane-tree,  the  hackberry,  and  the  elm,  and  prolific, 
in  spring  and  summer,  of  wild-flowers.  I  went  upon  one  of 
these  islands,  by  means  of  a  foot-bridge,  and  was  pointed  to 
another,  the  resort  of  a  quoit-club  comprising  some  of  the 
most  distinguished  men  of  Richmond,  among  whom  in  his 
lifetime  was  Judge  Marshall,  who  sometimes  joined  in  this 
athletic  sport.  We  descended  one  of  the  hills  on  which  the 
town  is  built,  and  went  up  another  to  the  east,  where 
stands  an  ancient  house  of  religious  worship,  the  oldest 
Episcopal  church  in  the  state.  It  is  in  the  midst  of  a  bury- 
ing-ground,  where  sleep  some  of  the  founders  of  the  colony, 
whose  old  graves  are  greenly  overgrown  with  the  trailing 
and  matted  periwinkle.  In  this  church,  Patrick  Henry,  at 
the  commencement  of  the  American  Revolution,  made  that 
celebrated  speech,  which  so  vehemently  moved  all  who 
heard  him,  ending  with  the  sentence  :  "  Give  me  liberty  or 
give  me  death."  We  looked  in  at  one  of  the  windows  ;  it 
is  a  low,  plain  room,  with  small,  square  pews,  and  a  sound 
ing  board  over  the  little  pulpit.  From  the  hill  on.  which 
this  church  stands,  you  have  a  beautiful  view  of  the  sur- 
rounding country,  a  gently  undulating  surface,  closed  in  by 
hills  on  the  west  ;  and  the  James  River  is  seen  wandering 


A     TOBACCO     FACTORY.  73 

through  it,  by  distant  plantations,  and  between  borders  of 
trees.  A  place  was  pointed  out  to  us,  a  little  way  down 
the  river,  which  bears  the  name  of  Powhatan  ;  and  here,  I 
\ras  told,  a  flat  rock  is  still  shown  as  the  one  on  which 
Captain  Smith  was  placed  by  his  captors,  in  order  to  be  put 
to  death,  when  the  intercession  of  Pocahontas  saved  his 
life. 

I  went  with  an  acquaintance  to  see  the  inspection  arid 
sale  of  tobacco.  Huge,  upright  columns  of  dried  leaves, 
firmly  packed  and  of  a  greenish  hue,  stood  in  rows,  under 
the  roof  of  a  broad,  low  building,  open  on  all  sides — these 
were  the  hogsheads  of  tobacco,  stripped  of  the  staves.  The 
inspector,  a  portly  man,  with  a  Bourbon  face,  his  white 
hair  gathered  in  a  tie  behind,  went  very  quietly  and  ex- 
peditiously  through  his  task  of  determining  the  quality,  after 
which  the  vast  bulks  were  disposed  of,  in  a  very  short  time, 
with  surprisingly  little  noise,  to  the  tobacco  merchants. 
Tobacco,  to  the  value  of  three  millions  of  dollars  annually, 
is  sent  by  the  planters  to  Richmond,  and  thence  distributed 
to  different  nations,  whose  merchants  frequent  this  mart. 
In  the  sales  it  is  always  sure  to  bring  cash,  which,  to  those 
who  detest  the  weed,  is  a  little  difficult  to  understand. 

I  went  afterwards  to  a  tobacco  factory,  the  sight  of  which 
amused  me,  though  the  narcotic  fumes  made  me  cough. 
In  one  room  a  black  man  was  taking  apart  the  small 
bundles  of  leaves  of  which  a  hogshead  of  tobacco  is  com- 
posed, and  carefully  separating  leaf  from  leaf ;  others  were 
7 


74  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

assorting  the  leaves  according  to  the  quality,  and  others 
again  were  arranging  the  leaves  in  layers  and  sprinkling 
each  layer  with  the  extract  of  liquorice.  In  another  room 
weie  ahout  eighty  negroes,  boys  they  are  called,  from  the 
age  of  twelve  years  up  to  manhood,  who  received  the 
leaves  thus  prepared,  rolled  them  into  long  even  rolls,  and 
then  cut  them  into  plugs  of  about  four  inches  in  length, 
which  were  afterwards  passed  through  a  press,  and  thus 
became  ready  for  market,  As  we  entered  the  room  we 
heard  a  murmur  of  psalmody  running  through  the  sable 
assembly,  which  now  and  then  swelled  into  a  strain  of  very 
tolerable  music. 

"  Verse  sweetens  toil — " 

says  the  stanza  which  Dr.  Johnson  was  so  fond  of  quoting, 
and  really  it  is  so  good  that  I  will  transcribe  the  whole 
of  it — 

"  Verse  sweetens  toil,  however  rude  the  sound — 

All  at  her  work  the  village  maiden  sings, 

Nor,  while  she  turns  the  giddy  wheel  around, 

Revolves  the  sad  vicissitudes  of  things." 

Verse  it  seems  can  sweeten  the  toil  of  slaves  in  a  tobacco 
factory. 

"  We  encourage  their  singing  as  much  as  we  can,"  said 
the  brother  of  the  proprietor,  himself  a  diligent  masticator 
of  the  weed,  who  attended  us,  and  politely  explained  to  us 
the  process  of  making  plug  tobacco  ;  "we  encourage  it  as 


WORK     AND     r  SAL. MOD  V.  75 

much  as  we  can,  for  the  boys  work  better  while  singing. 
Sometimes  they  will  sing  all  day  long  with  great  spirit ;  at 
other  times  you  will  not  hear  a  single  note.  They  must 
sing  wholly  of  their  own  accord,  it  is  of  no  use  to  bid  them 
do  it." 

"  What  is  remarkable,"  he  continued,  "their  tunes  are 
all  psalm  tunes,  and  the  words  are  from  hymn-books  ;  their 
taste  is  exclusively  for  sacred  music  ;  they  will  sing  nothing 
else.  Almost  all  these  persons  are  church-members ;  we 
have  not  a  dozen  about  the  factory  who  are  not  so.  Most 
of  them  are  of  the  Baptist  persuasion ;  a  few  are  Metho- 
dists." 

I  saw  in  the  course  of  the  day  the  Baptist  church  in 
which  these  people  worship,  a  low,  plain,  but  spacious  briclc 
building,  the  same  in  which  the  sages  of  Virginia,  a  genera- 
tion of  great  men,  debated  the  provisions  of  the  constitution. 
It  has  a  congregation  of  twenty-seven  hundred  persons,  and 
the  best  choir,  I  heard  somebody  say,  in  all  Richmond. 
Near  it  is  the  Monumental  church,  erected  on  the  site  of 
the  Richmond  theatre,  after  the  terrible  fire  which  carried 
mourning  into  so  many  families. 

In  passing  through  an  old  part  of  Main-street,  I  was 
shown  an  ancient  stone  cottage  of  rude  architecture  and 
humble  dimensions,  which  was  once  the  Best  hotel  in 
Richmond.  Here,  I  was  told,  there  are  those  in  Rich- 
mond who  remember  dining  with  General  Washington, 
Judge  Marshall,  and  their  cotemporaries.  I  could  not  help 


76  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

comparing  it  with  the  palace-like  building  put  up  at  Rich- 
mond within  two  or  three  years  past,  named  the  Exchange 
Hotel,  with  its  spacious  parlors,  its  long  dining-rooms,  its 
airy  dormitories,  and  its  ample  halls  and  passages,  echoing 
to  the  steps  of  busy  waiters,  and  guests  coming  and  depart- 
ing. The  Exchange  Hotel  is  one  of  the  finest  buildings  for 
its  purpose  in  the  United  States,  and  is  extremely  well- 
kept. 

I  paid  a  visit  to  the  capitol,  nobly  situated  on  an  emi- 
nence which  overlooks  the  city,  and  is  planted  with  trees. 
The  statue  of  Washington,  executed  by  Houdon  for  the 
state  of  Virginia,  in  1788,  is  here.  It  is  of  the  size  of  life, 
representing  Gen.  Washington  in  the  costume  of  his  day, 
and  in  an  ordinary  standing  posture.  It  gratifies  curiosity, 
but  raises  no  particular  moral  emotion.  Compared  with 
the  statue  by  Greenough,  it  presents  a  good  example  of  the 
difference  between  the  work  of  a  mere  sculptor — skillful  in- 
deed, but  still  a  mere  sculptor — and  the  work  of  a  man  of 
genius. 

I  shall  shortly  set  out  for  Charleston,  South  Carolina. 


CROSSING     THE     ROANOKE     BY    NIGHT.  77 


LETTER    X. 

A   JOURNEY   FROM    RICHMOND    TO   CHARLESTON. 

CHARLESTON,  March  6,  1843. 

I  LEFT  Richmond,  on  the  afternoon  of  a  keen  March  day, 
in  the  railway  train  for  Petersburg,  where  we  arrived  after 
dark,  and,  therefore,  could  form  no  judgment  of  the  appear- 
ance of  the  town.  Here  we  were  transferred  to  another 
train  of  cars.  Among  the  passengers  was  a  lecturer  on 
Mesmerism,  with  his  wife,  and  a  young  woman  who  ac- 
companied them  as  a  mesmeric  subject.  The  young  woman, 
accustomed  to  be  easily  put  to  sleep,  seemed  to  get  through 
the  night  very  comfortably  ;  but  the  spouse  of  the  operator 
appeared  to  be  much  disturbed  by  the  frequent  and  capri- 
cious opening  of  the  door  by  the  other  passengers,  which  let 
in  torrents  of  intensely  cold  air  from  without,  and  chid  the 
offenders  with  a  wholesome  sharpness. 

About  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  we  reached  Blakely 
on  the  Roanoke,  where  we  were  made  to  get  out  of  the 
cars,  and  were  marched  in  long  procession  for  about  a  quar- 
ter of  a  mile  down  to  the  river.  A  negro  walked  before  us 
to  light  our  way,  bearing  a  blazing  pine  torch,  which  scat- 
tered sparks  like  a  steam-engine,  and  a  crowd  of  negroes 


78  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

followed  us,  bearing  our  baggage.  We  went  down  a  steep 
path  to  the  Roanoke,  where  we  found  a  little  old  steamboat 
ready  for  us,  and  in  about  fifteen  minutes  were  struggling 
upward  against  the  muddy  and  rapid  current.  In  little 
more  than  an  hour,  we  had  proceeded  two  miles  and  a  half 
up  the  river,  and  were  landed  at  a  place  called  Weldon. 
Here  we  took  the  cars  for  Wilmington,  in  North  Carolina, 
and  shabby  vehicles  they  were,  denoting  our  arrival  in  a 
milder  climate,  by  being  extremely  uncomfortable  for  cold 
weather.  As  morning  dawned,  we  saw  ourselves  in  the 
midst  of  the  pine  forests  of  North  Carolina.  Vast  tracts  of 
level  sand,  overgrown  with  the  long-leaved  pine,  a  tall, 
stately  tree,  with  sparse  and  thick  twigs,  ending  in  long 
brushes  of  leaves,  murmuring  in  the  strong  cold  wind,  ex- 
tended everywhere  around  us.  At  great  distances  from  each 
other,  we  passed  log-houses,  and  sometimes  a  dwelling  of 
more  pretensions,  with  a  piazza,  and  here  and  there  fields 
in  which  cotton  or  maize  had  been  planted  last  year,  or  an 
orchard  with  a  few  small  mossy  trees.  The  pools  beside 
the  roads  were  covered  with  ice  just  formed,  and  the  negroes, 
who  like  a  good  fire  at  almost  any  season  of  the  year,  and 
who  find  an  abundant  supply  of  the  finest  fuel  in  these 
forests,  had  made  blazing  fires  of  the  resinous  wood  of  the 
pine,  wherever  they  were  at  work.  The  tracts  of  sandy 
soil,  we  perceived,  were  interspersed  with  marshes,  crowded 
with  cypress-trees,  and  verdant  at  their  borders  with  a 
growth  of  evergreens,  such  as  the  swamp-bay,  the  gall- 


MODE  OF  COLLECTING  TURPENTINE.      79 

berry,  the  holly,  and  various  kinds  of  evergreen  creepers, 
which  are  unknown  to  our  northern  climate,  and  which  be- 
came more  frequent  as  we  proceeded. 

We  passed  through  extensive  forests  of  pine,  which  had 
been  boxed,  as  it  is  called,  for  the  collection  of  turpentine. 
Every  tree  had  been  scored  by  the  axe  upon  one  of  its  sides, 
some  of  them  as  high  as  the  arm  could  reach  down  to  the 
roots,  and  the  broad  wound  was  covered  with  the  turpen- 
tine, which  seems  to  saturate  every  fibre  of  the  long-leaved 
pine.  Sometimes  we  saw  large  flakes  or  crusts  of  the  tur- 
pentine, of  a  light-yellow  color,  which  had  fallen,  and  lay 
beside  the  tree  on  the  ground.  The  collection  of  turpentine 
is  a  work  of  destruction ;  it  strips  acre  after  acre  of  these 
noble  trees,  and,  if  it  goes  on,  the  time  is  not  far  distant 
when  the  long-leaved  pine  will  become  nearly  extinct  in  this 
region,  which  is  so  sterile  as  hardly  to  be  fitted  for  producing 
any  thing  else.  We  saw  large  tracts  covered  with  the 
standing  trunks  of  trees  already  killed  by  it ;  and  other 
tracts  beside  them  had  been  freshly  attacked  by  the  spoiler. 
I  am  told  that  the  tree  which  grows  up  when  the  long- 
leaved  pine  is  destroyed,  is  the  loblolly  pine,  or,  as  it  is 
sometimes  called,  the  short-leaved  pine,  a  tree  of  very  infe- 
rior quality  and  in  little  esteem. 

About  half-past  two  in  the  afternoon,  we  came  to  Wil- 
mington, a  little  town  built  upon  the  white  sands  of  Cape 
Fear,  some  of  the  houses  standing  where  not  a  blade  of 
grass  or  other  plant  can  grow.  A  few  evergreen  oaks,  in 


80  LETTERS    OF     A    TRAVELLER. 

places,  pleasantly  overhang  the  water.  Here  we  took  the 
steamer  for  Charleston. 

I  may  as  well  mention  here  a  fraud  which  is  sometimes 
practiced  upon  those  who  go  by  this  route  to  Charleston. 
Advertisements  are  distributed  at  New  York  and  elsewhere, 
informing  the  public  that  the  fare  from  Baltimore  to  Charles- 
ton, by  the  railway  through  Washington  and  Richmond,  is 
but  twenty-two  dollars.  I  took  the  railway,  paying  from 
place  to  place  as  I  went,  and  found  that  this  was  a  false- 
hood ;  I  was  made  to  pay  seven  or  eight  dollars  more.  In 
the  course  of  my  journey,  I  was  told  that,  to  protect  myself 
from  this  imposition,  I  should  have  purchased  at  Baltimore 
a  "  through  ticket,"  as  it  is  called  ;  that  is,  should  have  paid 
in  advance  for  the  whole  distance ;  but  the  advertisement 
did  not  inform  me  that  this  was  necessary.  No  wonder 
that  "tricks  upon  travellers"  should  have  become  a  pro- 
verbial expression,  for  they  are  a  much-enduring  race,  more 
or  less  plundered  in  every  part  of  the  world. 

The  next  morning,  at  eight  o'clock,  we  found  ourselves 
entering  Charleston  harbor  ;  Sullivan's  Island,  with  Fort 
Moultrie,  breathing  recollections  of  the  revolution,  on  our 
right ;  James  Island  on  our  left ;  in  front,  the  stately  dwell- 
ings of  the  town,  and  all  around,  on  the  land  side,  the  hori- 
zon bounded  by  an  apparent  belt  of  evergreens — the  live-oak, 
the  water-oak,  the  palmetto,  the  pine,  and,  planted  about 
the  dwellings,  the  magnolia  and  the  wild  orange — giving  to 
the  scene  a  summer  aspect.  The  city  of  Charleston  strikes 


CHARLESTON.  81 

the  visitor  from  the  north  most  agreeably.  He  perceives  at 
once  that  he  is  in  a  different  climate.  The  spacious  houses 
are  surrounded  with  broad  piazzas,  often  a  piazza  to  each  story, 
for  the  sake  of  shade  and  coolness,  and  each  house  generally 
stands  by  itself  in  a  garden  planted  with  trees  and  shrubs, 
many  of  which  preserve  their  verdure  through  the  winter. 
We  saw  early  flowers  already  opening  ;  the  peach  and 
plum-tree  were  in  full  bloom  ;  and  the  wild  orange,  as  they 
call  the  cherry-laurel,  was  just  putting  forth  its  blossoms. 
The  buildings — some  with  stuccoed  walls,  some  built  of  large 
dark-red  bricks,  and  some  of  wood — are  not  kept  fresh  with 
paint  like  ours,  but  are  allowed  to  become  weather-stained 
by  the  humid  climate,  like  those  of  the  European  towns. 
The  streets  are  broad  and  quiet,  unpaved  in  some  parts,  but 
in  none,  as  with  us,  offensive  both  to  sight  and  smell.  The 
public  buildings  are  numerous  for  the  size  of  the  city,  and 
well-built  in  general,  with  sufficient  space  about  them  to 
give  them  a  noble  aspect,  and  all  the  advantage  which  they 
could  derive  from  their  architecture.  The  inhabitants,  judg- 
ing from  what  I  have  seen  of  them,  which  is  not  much,  I 
confess,  do  not  appear  undeserving  of  the  character  which 
has  been  given  them,  of  possessing  the  most  polished  and 
agreeable  manners  of  all  the  American  cities. 

I  may  shortly  write  you  again  from  the  interior  of  South 
Carolina. 


82  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 


LETTER   XI. 

THE  INTERIOR  OF  SOUTH  CAROLINA. A  CORN-SHUCKING. 

BAEXWELL  DISTRICT,          l 
South  Carolina,  March  29, 1843.  J 

SINCE  I  last  wrote,  I  have  passed  three  weeks  in  the 
interior  of  South  Carolina  ;  visited  Columbia,  the  capital 
of  the  state,  a  pretty  town  ;  roamed  over  a  considerable  part 
of  Barnwell  district,  with  some  part  of  the  neighboring  one 
of  Orangeburg ;  enjoyed  the  hospitality  of  the  planters — 
very  agreeable  and  intelligent  men  ;  been  out  in  a  racoon 
hunt ;  been  present  at  a  corn-shucking ;  listened  to  negro 
ballads,  negro  jokes,  and  the  banjo ;  witnessed  negro  dances ; 
seen  two  alligators  at  least,  and  eaten  bushels  of  hominy. 

Whoever  comes  out  on  the  railroad  to  this  district,  a  dis- 
tance of  seventy  miles  or  more,  if  he  were  to  judge  only  by 
what  he  sees  in  his  passage,  might  naturally  take  South 
Carolina  for  a  vast  pine-forest,  with  here  and  there  a  clear- 
ing made  by  some  enterprising  settler,  and  would  wonder 
where  the  cotton  which  clothes  so  many  millions  of  the  hu- 
man race,  is  produced.  The  railway  keeps  on  a  tract  of 
sterile  sand,  overgrown  with  pines  ;  passing,  here  and  there, 
along  the  edge  of  a  morass,  or  crossing  a  stream  of  yellow 


SOUTH     CAROLINA     PLANTATIONS.  Ob 

water.  A  lonely  log-house  under  these  old  trees,  is  a  sight 
for  sore  eyes  ;  and  only  two  or  three  plantations,  properly  sc, 
called,  meet  the  eye  in  the  whole  distance.  The  cultivated 
and  more  productive  lands  lie  apart  from  this  tract,  near 
streams,  and  interspersed  with  more  frequent  ponds  ant! 
marshes.  Here  you  find  plantations  comprising  severa! 
thousands  of  acres,  a  considerable  part  of  which  always  lie* 
in  ibrest ;  cotton  and  corn  fields  of  vast  extent,  and  a  negn 
village  on  every  plantation,  at  a  respectful  distance  from  the 
habitation  of  the  proprietor.  Evergreen  trees  of  the  oal. 
family  and  others,  which  I  mentioned  in  my  last  letter,  are 
generally  planted  about  the  mansions.  Some  of  them  are 
surrounded  with  dreary  clearings,  full  of  the  standing  trunks 
of  dead  pines  ;  others  are  pleasantly  situated  in  the  edge  of 
woods,  intersected  by  winding  paths.  A  ramble,  or  a  ride 
— a  ride  on  a  hand-gallop  it  should  be — in  these  pine 
woods,  on  a  fine  March  day,  when  the  weather  has  all  the 
spirit  of  our  March  days  without  its  severity,  is  one  of  the 
most  delightful  recreations  in  the  world.  The  paths  are 
upon  a  white  sand,  which,  when  not  frequently  travelled,  is 
very  firm  under  foot ;  on  all  sides  you  are  surrounded  by 
noble  stems  of  trees,  towering  to  an  immense  height,  from 
whose  summits,  far  above  you,  the  wind  is  drawing  deep 
and  grand  harmonies ;  and  often  your  way  is  beside  a 
marsh,  verdant  with  magnolias,  where  the  yellow  jessamine, 
now  in  flower,  fills  the  air  with  fragrance,  and  the  bamboo- 
briar,  an  evergreen  creeper,  twines  itself  with  various  other 


84  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

plants,  which  never  shed  their  leaves  in  winter.  These 
woods  abound  in  game,  which,  you  will  believe  me  when  I 
say,  I  had  rather  start  than  shoot, — flocks  of  turtle-doves, 
rabbits  rising  and  scudding  before  you  ;  bevies  of  quails, 
partridges  they  call  them  here,  chirping  almost  under  your 
horse's  feet ;  wild  ducks  swimming  in  the  pools,  and  wild 
turkeys,  which  are  frequently  shot  by  the  practiced  sports- 
man. 

But  you  must  hear  of  the  corn-shucking.  The  one  at 
which  I  was  present  was  given  on  purpose  that  I  might 
witness  the  humors  of  the  Carolina  negroes.  A  huge  fire 
of  light-wood  was  made  near  the  corn-house.  Light-wood 
is  the  wood  of  the  long-leaved  pine,  and  is  so  called,  not  be- 
cause it  is  light,  for  it  is  almost  the  heaviest  wood  in  the 
world,  but  because  it  gives  more  light  than  any  other  fuel. 
In  clearing  land,  the  pines  are  girdled  and  suffered  to 
stand  ;  the  outer  portion  of  the  wood  decays  and  falls 
off;  the  inner  part,  which  is  saturated  with  turpentine, 
remains  upright  for  years,  and  constitutes  the  planter's  pro- 
vision.of  fuel.  When  a  supply  is  wanted,  one  of  these  dead 
trunks  is  felled  by  the  axe.  The  abundance  of  light-wood 
is  one  of  the  boasts  of  South  Carolina.  Wherever  you  are, 
if  you  happen  to  be  chilly,  you  may  have  a  fire  extempore  ; 
a  bit  of  light-wood  and  a  coal  give  you  a  bright  blaze  and  a 
strong  heat  in  an  instant.  The  negroes  make  fires  of  it  in 
the  fields  where  they  work ;  and,  when  the  mornings  are 
wet  and  chilly,  in  the  pens  where  they  are  milking  the 


NEGRO     SONGS.  85 

cows.  At  a  plantation,  where  I  passed  a  frosty  night,  I 
saw  fires  in  a  small  inclosure.  and  was  told  by  the  lady  of 
the  house  that  she  had  ordered  them  to  he  made  to  warm 
the  cattle. 

The  light- wood  fire  was  made,  and  the  negroes  dropped 
in  from  the  neighboring  plantations,  singing  as  they  came. 
The  driver  of  the  plantation,  a  colored  man,  brought  out 
baskets  of  corn  in  the  husk,  and  piled  it  in  a  heap  ;  and  the 
negroes  began  to  strip  the  husks  from  the  ears,  singing  with 
great  glee  as  they  worked,  keeping  time  to  the  music,  and 
now  and  then  throwing  in  a  joke  and  an  extravagant  burst 
of  laughter.  The  songs  were  generally  of  a  comic  charac- 
ter ;  but  one  of  them  was  set  to  a  singularly  wild  and 
plaintive  air,  which  some  of  our  musicians  would  do  well 
to  reduce  to  notation.  These  are  the  words  : 


Johnny  come  down  de  hollow. 

Oh  hollow ! 
Johnny  come  down  de  hollow. 

Oh  hollow ! 
De  nigger-trader  got  me. 

Oh  hollow ! 
De  speculator  bought  me. 

Oh  hollow ! 
I'm  sold  for  silver  dollars. 

Oh  hollow ! 
Boys,  go  catch  de  pony. 

Oh  hollow! 
Bring  him  round  de  corner. 

Oh  hollow ! 


86  LETTERS    OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

I'm  goin'  away  to  Georgia. 

Oh  hollow ! 
Boys,  good-by  forever ! 

Oh  hollow ! 

The  song  of  "  Jenny  gone  away,"  was  also  given,  and 
another,  called  the  monkey-song,  probably  of  African  origin, 
in  which  the  principal  singer  personated  a  monkey,  with  all 
sorts  of  odd  gesticulations,  and  the  other  negroes  bore  part 
in  the  chorus,  "  Dan,  dan,  who's  de  dandy  ?"  One  of  the 
songs,  commonly  sung  on  these  occasions,  represents  the 
various  animals  of  the  woods  as  belonging  to  some  profession 
or  trade.  For  example — 

De  cooter  is  de  boatman — 

The  cooter  is  the  terrapin,   and    a  very  expert   boatman 
he  is. 

De  cooter  is  de  boatman. 

John  John  Crow. 
De  red-bird  de  soger. 

John  John  Crow. 
De  mocking-bird  de  lawyer. 

John  John  Crow. 
De  alligator  sawyer. 

John  John  Crow. 

The  alligator's  back  is  furnished  with  a  toothed  ridge, 
like  the  edge  of  a  saw,  which  explains  the  last  line. 

When  the  work  of  the  evening  was  over  the  negroes 
adjourned  to  a  spacious  kitchen.  One  of  them  took  his 


NEGRO     MILITARY     PARADE.  87 

place  as  musician,  whistling,  and  beating  time  with  two 
sticks  upon  the  floor.  Several  of  the  men  came  ibrward  and 
executed  various  dances,  capering,  prancing,  and  drumming 
with  heel  and  toe  upon  the  floor,  with  astonishing  agility 
and  perseverance,  though  all  of  them  had  performed  their 
daily  tasks  and  had  worked  all  the  evening,  and  some  had 
walked  from  four  to  seven  miles  to  attend  the  corn-shucking. 
From  the  dances  a  transition  was  made  to  a  mock  military 
parade,  a  sort  of  burlesque  of  our  militia  trainings,  in  which 
the  words  of  command  and  the  evolutions  were  extremely 
ludicrous.  It  became  necessary  for  the  commander  to  make 
a  speech,  and  confessing  his  incapacity  for  public  speaking, 
he  called  upon  a  huge  black  man  named  Toby  to  ad- 
dress the  company  in  his  stead.  Toby,  a  man  of  powerful 
frame,  six  feet  high,  his  face  ornamented  with  a  beard  of 
fashionable  cut,  had  hitherto  stood  leaning  against  the  wall, 
looking  upon  the  frolic  with  an  air  of  superiority.  He 
consented,  came  forward,  demanded  a  bit  of  paper  to  hold  in 
his  hand,  and  harangued  the  soldiery.  It  was  evident  that 
Toby  had  listened  to  stump-speeches  in.  his  day.  He  spoke 
of  "  de  majority  of  Sous  Carolina,"  "  de  interests  of  de 
state,"  "  de  honor  of  ole  Ba'nwell  district,"  and  these  phrases 
he  connected  by  various  expletives,  and  sounds  of  which  we 
could  make  nothing.  A  length  he  began  to  falter,  when 
the  captain  with  admirable  presence  of  mind  came  to  his 
relief,  and  interrupted  and  closed  the  harangue  with  an 
hurrah  from  the  company.  Toby  was  allowed  by  all  the 


LETTERS    OF    A    TRAVELLER. 

spectators,  black  and  white,  to  have  made  an  excellent 
speech. 

The  blacks  of  this  region  are  a  cheerful,  careless,  dirty 
race,  not  hard  worked,  and  in  many  respects  indulgently 
treated.  It  is,  of  course,  the  desire  of  the  master  that  his 
slaves  shall  be  laborious  ;  on  the  other  hand  it  is  the  deter- 
mination of  the  slave  to  lead  as  easy  a  Life  as  he  can.  The 
master  has  power  of  punishment  on  his  side  ;  the  slave,  on 
his,  has  invincible  inclination,  and  a  thousand  expedients 
learned  by  long  practice.  The  result  is  a  compromise  in 
which  each  party  yields  something,  and  a  good-natured 
though  imperfect  and  slovenly  obedience  on  one  side,  is  pur- 
chased by  good  treatment  on  the  other.  I  have  been  told  by, 
planters  that  the  slave  brought  from  Africa  is  much  more 
serviceable,  though  more  high-spirited  and  dangerous  than  the 
slave  born  in  this  country,  and  early  trained  to  his  condition. 

I  have  been  impatiently  waiting  the  approach  of  spring, 
since  I  came  to  this  state,  but  the  weather  here  is  still  what 
the  inhabitants  call  winter.  The  season,  I  am  told,  is  more 
than  three  weeks  later  than  usual.  Fields  of  Indian  corn 
which  were  planted  in  the  beginning  of  March,  must  be  re- 
planted, for  the  seed  has  perished  in  the  ground,  and  the 
cotton  planting  is  deferred  for  fine  weather.  The  peach 
and  plum  trees  have  stood  in  blossom  for  weeks,  and  the 
forest  trees,  which  at  this  time  are  usually  in  full  foliage,  are 
as  bare  as  in  December.  Cattle  are  dying  in  the  fields  for 
want  of  pasture. 


WINTER  CLIMATE  OP  SOUTH  CAROLINA.    89 

I  have  thus  had  a  sample  of  the  winter  climate  of  South 
Carolina.  If  never  more  severe  or  stormy  than  I  have 
already  experienced,  it  must  he  an  agreeable  one.  The  cus- 
tom of  sitting  with  open  doors,  however,  I  found  a  little  dif- 
ficult to  like  at  first.  A  door  in  South  Carolina,  except 
perhaps  the  outer  door  of  a  house,  is  not  made  to  shut.  It  is 
merely  a  sort  of  flapper,  an  ornamental  appendage  to  the 
opening  by  which  you  enter  a  room,  a  kind  of  moveable 
screen  made  to  swing  to  and  fro,  but  never  to  be  secured  by 
a  latch,  unless  for  some  purpose  of  strict  privacy.  A  door  is 
the  ventilator  to  the  room  ;  the  windows  are  not  raised  ex- 
cept in  warm  weather,  but  the  door  is  kept  open  at  all 
seasons.  On  cold  days  you  have  a  bright  fire  of  pine- wood 
blazing  before  you,  and  a  draught  of  cold  air  at  your  back. 
The  reason  given  for  this  practice  is,  that  fresh  air  is  whole- 
some, and  that  close  rooms  occasion  colds  and  consumptions. 
8* 


90  M;  T  T  E  :: s   OF    A   x R  A v E r, L E R. 


LETTER    XII. 

SAVANNAH. 

PICOLATA,  East  Florida,  April  7,  1843. 

As  I  landed  at  this  place,  a  few  hours  since,  I  stepped 
into  the  midst  of  summer.  Yesterday  morning  when  I  left 
Savannah,  people  were  complaining  that  the  winter  was 
not  over.  The  temperature  which,  at  this  time  of  the 
year,  is  usually  warm  and  genial,  continued  to  be  what 
they  called  chilly,  though  I  found  it  agreeable  enough,  and 
the  showy  trees,  called  the  Pride  of  India,  which  are 
planted  all  over  the  city,  and  are  generally  in  bloom  at  this 
season,  were  still  leafless.  Here  I  find  every  thing  green, 
fresh,  and  fragrant,  trees  and  shrubs  in  full  foliage,  and 
wild  roses  in  flower.  The  dark  waters  of  the  St.  John's, 
one  of  the  noblest  streams  of  the  country,  in  depth  and 
width  like  the  St.  Lawrence,  draining  almost  the  whole 
extent  of  the  peninsula,  are  flowing  under  my  window. 
On  the  opposite  shore  are  forests  of  tall  trees,  bright  in 
the  new  verdure  of  the  season.  A  hunter  who  has  ranged 
them  the  whole  day,  has  just  arrived  in  a  canoe,  bringing 
with  him  a  deer,  which  he  has  killed.  I  have  this  moment 
returned  from  a  ramble  with  my  host  through  a  hammock, 


HAMMOCKS    IN     FLORIDA.  91 

he  looking  for"  his  cows,  and  I,  unsuccessfully,  for  a  thicket 
of  orange-trees.  He  is  something  of  a  florist,  and  gathered 
for  me,  as  we  went,  some  of  the  forest  plants,  which  were 
in  bloom.  "  We  have  flowers  here,"  said  he,  "  every  month 
in  the  year." 

I  have  used  the  word  hammock,  which  here,  in  Florida, 
has  a  peculiar  meaning.  A  hammock  is  a  spot  covered 
with  a  growth  of  trees  which  require  a  richer  soil  than 
the  pine,  such  as  the  oak,  the  mulberry,  the  gum-tree,  the 
hickory,  &c.  The  greater  part  of  East  Florida  consists  of 
pine  barrens — a  sandy  level,  producing  the  long  leaved  pine 
and  the  dwarf  palmetto,  a  low  plant,  with  fan-like  leaves, 
and  roots  of  a  prodigious  size.  The  hammock  is  a  kind  of 
oasis,  a  verdant  and  luxuriant  island  in  the  midst  of  these 
sterile  sands,  which  make  about  nine-tenths  of  the  soil  of 
East  Florida.  In  the  hammocks  grow  the  wild  lime,  the 
native  orange,  both  sour  and  bitter-sweet,  and  the  various 
vines  and  gigantic  creepers  of  the  country.  The  hammocks 
are  chosen  for  plantations  ;  here  the  cane  is  cultivated,  and 
groves  of  the  sweet  orange  planted.  But  I  shall  say  more 
of  Florida  hereafter,  when  I  have  seen  more  of  it.  Mean- 
time let  me  speak  of  my  journey  hither. 

I  left  Charleston  on  the  30th  of  March,  in  one  t)f  the 
steamers  which  ply  between  that  city  and  Savannah. 
These  steamers  are  among  the  very  best  that  float — quiet, 
commodious,  clean,  fresh  as  if  just  built,  and  furnished 
with  civil  and  ready-handed  waiters.  We  passed  along  the 


92  LETTERS     OF    A     TRAVELLER. 

narrow  and  winding  channels  which  divide  the  broad 
islands  of  South  Carolina  from  the  main-land — islands 
famed  for  the  rice  culture,  and  particularly  for  the  excellent 
cotton  with  long  fibres,  named  the  sea-island  cotton.  Our 
fellow-passengers  were  mostly  planters  of  these  islands,  and 
their  families,  persons  of  remarkably  courteous,  frank,  and 
agreeable  manners.  The  shores  on  either  side  had  little  of 
the  picturesque  to  show  us.  Extensive  marshes  waving 
with  coarse  water-grass,  sometimes  a  cane-brake,  sometimes 
a  pine  grove  or  a  clump  of  cabbage-leaved  palmettoes ; 
here  and  there  a  pleasant  bank  bordered  with  live-oaks 
streaming  with  moss,  and  at  wide  intervals  the  distant 
habitation  of  a  planter — these  were  the  elements  of  the 
scenery.  The  next  morning  early  we  were  passing  up 
the  Savannah  river,  and  the  city  was  in  sight,  standing 
among  its  trees  on  a  high  bank  of  the  stream. 

Savannah  is  beautifully  laid  out ;  its  broad  streets  are 
thickly  planted  with  the  Pride  of  India,  and  its  frequent 
open  squares  shaded  with  trees  of  various  kinds.  Ogle- 
thorpe  seems  to  have  understood  how  a  city  should  be  built 
in  a  warm  climate,  and  the  people  of  the  place  are  fond  of 
reminding  the  stranger  that  the  original  plan  of  the  founder 
has  never  been  departed  from.  The  town,  so  charmingly 
embowered,  reminded  me  of  New  Haven,  though  the 
variety  of  trees  is  greater.  In  my  walks  about  the  place  I 
passed  a  large  stuccoed  building  of  a  dull-yellow  color,  with 
broad  arched  windows,  and  a  stately  portico,  on  each  side 


SAVANNAH     QUOIT-CLUB.  93 

of  which  stood  a  stiff-looking  palmetto,  as  if  keeping  guard. 
The  grim  aspect  of  the  building  led  me  to  ask  what  it  was, 
and  I  was  answered  that  it  was  "  the  old  United  States 
Bank."  It  was  the  building  in  which  the  Savannah 
branch  of  that  bank  transacted  business,  and  is  now  shut 
up  until  the  time  shall  come  when  that  great  institution 
shall  be  revived.  Meantime  I  was  pained  to  see  that  there 
exists  so  little  reverence  for  its  memory,  and  so  little  grati- 
tude for  its  benefits,  that  the  boys  have  taken  to  smashing 
the  windows,  so  that  those  who  have  the  care  of  the  build- 
ing have  been  obliged  to  cover  them  with  plank.  In 
another  part  of  the  city  I  was  shown  an  African  church,  a 
neat,  spacious  wooden  building,  railed  in,  and  kept  in  ex- 
cellent order,  with  a  piazza  extending  along  its  entire  front. 
It  is  one  of  the  four  places  of  worship  for  the  blacks  of  the 
town,  and  was  built  by  negro  workmen  with  materials  pur- 
chased by  the  contributions  of  the  whites. 

South  of  the  town  extends  an  uninclosed  space,  on  one 
side  of  which  is  a  pleasant  grove  of  pines,  in  the  shade  of 
which  the  members  of  a  quoit-club  practice  their  athletic 
sport.  Here  on  a  Saturday  afternoon,  for  that  is  their 
stated  time  of  assembling,  I  was  introduced  to  some  of  the 
most  distinguished  citizens  of  Savannah,  and  witnessed  the 
skill  with  which  they  threw  the  discus.  No  apprentices 
were  they  in  the  art ;  there  was  no  striking  far  from  the 
stake,  no  sending  the  discus  rolling  over  the  green  ;  they 


94  LETTERS    OF    A    TRAVELLER. 

heaped  the  quoits  as  snugly  around  the  stakes  as  if  the 
amusement  had  been  their  profession. 

In  the  same  neighborhood,  just  without  the  town,  lies  the 
public  cemetery  surrounded  by  an.  ancient  wall,  built  before 
the  revolution,  which  in  some  places  shows  the  marks  of 
shot  fired  against  it  in  the  skirmishes  of  that  period.  I 
entered  it,  hoping  to  find  some  monuments  of  those  who 
founded  the  city  a  hundred  and  ten  years  ago,  but  the  in- 
scriptions are  of  comparatively  recent  date.  Most  of  them 
commemorate  the  death  of  persons  born  in  Europe,  or  the 
northern  states.  I  was  told  that  the  remains  of  the  early 
inhabitants  lie  in  the  brick  tombs,  of  which  there  are  many 
without  any  inscription  whatever. 

At  a  little  distance,  near  a  forest,  lies  the  burial-place  of 
the  black  population.  A  few  trees,  trailing  with  long  moss, 
rise  above  hundreds  of  nameless  graves,  overgrown  with 
weeds ;  but  here  and  there  are  scattered  memorials  of  the 
dead,  some  of  a  very  humble  kind,  with  a  few  of  marble, 
and  half  a  dozen  spacious  brick  tombs  like  those  in  the 
cemetery  of  the  whites.  Some  of  them  are  erected  by 
masters  and  mistresses  to  the  memory  of  favorite  slaves. 
One  of  them  commemorates  the  death  of  a  young  woman 
who  perished  in  the  catastrophe  of  the  steamer  Pulaski,  of 
whom  it  is  recorded,  that  during  the  whole  time  that  she 
was  in  the  service  of  her  mistress,  which  was  many  years, 
she  never  committed  a  theft,  nor  uttered  a  falsehood.  A 


NEGRO     BURIAL-PLACE.  95 

brick  monument,  in  the  shape  of  a  little  tomb,  with  a  mar- 
ble slab  inserted  in  front,  has  this  inscription  : 

"  In  memory  of  Henrietta  Gatlin,  the  infant  stranger,  born  in  East 
Florida,  aged  1  year  3  months." 

A  graveyard  is  hardly  the  place  to  be  merry  in,  but  I 
could  not  help  smiling  at  some  of  the  inscriptions.  A  fair 
upright  marble  slab  commemorates  the  death  of  York 
Fleming,  a  cooper,  who  was  killed  by  the  explosion  of  a 
powder-magazine,  while  tightening  the  hoops  of  a  keg  of 
powder.  It  closes  with  this  curious  sentence  : 

"This  stone  was  erected  by  the  members  of  the  Axe  Company, 
Coopers  and  Committee  of  the  2nd  African  Church  of  Savannah  for 
the  purpose  of  having  a  Herse  for  benevolent  purposes,  of  which  he 
was  the  first  sexton." 

A  poor  fellow,  who  went  to  the  other  world  by  water, 
has  a  wooden  slab  to  mark  his  grave,  inscribed  with 
these  words : 

"  Sacred  to  the  memory  of  Robert  Spencer  who  came  to  his  Death 
by  A  Boat,  July  9th,  1840,  aged  21  years. 

Reader  as  you  am  now  so  once  I 

And  as  I  am  now  so  Mus  you  be  Shortly. 

Amen." 

Another  monument,  after  giving  the  name  of  the  dead, 
has  this  sentence  : 

"Go  home  Mother  dry  up  your  weeping  tears.  Gods  will  be 
done." 


96  LETTERS    OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

Another,  erected  to  Sarah  Morel,  aged  six  months,  has 
this  ejaculation  : 

"  Sweet  withered  lilly  farewell," 

One  of  the  monuments  is  erected  to  Andrew  Bryan,  a 
black  preacher,  of  the  Baptist  persuasion.  A  long  inscrip- 
tion states  that  he  was  once  imprisoned  "  for  preaching  the 
Gospel,  and,  without  ceremony,  severely  whipped  ;"  and 
that,  while  undergoing  the  punishment,  "  he  told  his  perse- 
cutors that  he  not  only  rejoiced  to  be  whipped,  fcut  was 
willing  to  suffer  death  for  the  cause  of  Christ."  He  died 
in  1812,  at  the  age  of  ninety-six  ;  his  funeral,  the  inscrip- 
tion takes  care  to  state,  was  attended  by  a  large  concourse 
of  people,  and  adds  : 

"  An  address  was  delivered  at  his  death  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Johnson, 
Dr.  Kollock,  Thomas  Williams,  and  Henry  Cunningham." 

While  in  Savannah,  I  paid  a  visit  to  Bonaventure,  for- 
merly a  country  seat  of  Governor  Tatnall,  but  now  aban- 
doned. A  pleasant  drive  of  a  mile  or  two,  through  a  bud- 
ding forest,  took  us  to  the  place,  which  is  now  itself  almost 
grown  up  into  forest.  Cedars  and  other  shrubs  hide  the  old 
terraces  of  the  garden,  which  is  finely  situated  on  the  high 
bank  of  a  river.  Trees  of  various  kinds  have  also  nearly 
filled  the  space  between  the  noble  avenues  of  live-oaks 
which  were  planted  around  the  mansion.  But  these  oaks — 
I  never  saw  finer  trees — certainly  I  never  saw  so  many 


BONAVENTUKE.  97 

majestic  and  venerable  trees  together.  I  looked  far  down 
the  immense  arches  that  overshadowed  the  broad  passages, 
as  high  as  the  nave  of  a  Gothic  cathedral,  apparently  as  old, 
and  stretching  to  a  greater  distance.  The  huge  boughs 
were  clothed  with  gray  moss,  yards  in  length,  which  clung 
to  them  like  mist,  or  hung  in  still  festoons  on  every  side, 
and  gave  them  the  appearance  of  the  vault  of  a  vast  vapory 
cavern.  The  cawing  of  the  crow  and  the  scream  of  the 
jay,  however,  reminded  us  that  we  were  in  the  forest.  Of 
the  mansion  there  are  no  remains ;  but  in  the  thicket  of 
magnolias  and  other  trees,  among  rosebushes  and  creeping 
plants,  we  found  a  burial-place  with  monuments  of  some 
persons  to  whom  the  seat  had  belonged. 

Savannah  is  more  healthy  of  late  years  than  it  formerly 
was.  An  arrangement  has  been  made  with  the  owners  of 
the  plantations  in  the  immediate  vicinity,  by  which  the 
culture  of  rice  has  been  abandoned,  and  the  lands  are  no 
longer  allowed  to  be  overflowed  within  a  mile  from  the  city. 
The  place  has  since  become  much  less  subject  to  fevers 
than  in  former  years. 

I  left,  with  a  feeling  of  regret,  the  agreeable  society  of 
Savannah.  The  steamboat  took  us  to  St.  Mary's,  through 
passages  between  the  sea-islands  and  the  main-land,  similar 
to  those  by  which  we  had  arrived  at  Savannah.  In  the 
course  of  the  day,  we  passed  a  channel  in  which  we  saw 
several  huge  alligators  basking  on  the  bank.  The  grim  crea- 
tures slid  slowly  into  the  water  at  our  approach.  We  passed 


96  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

St.  Mary's  in  the  night,  and  in  the  morning  we  were  in  the 
mam  ocean,  approaching  the  St.  John's,  where  we  saw  a 
row  of  pelicans  standing,  like  creatures  who  had  nothing  to 
do,  on  the  sand.  We  entered  the  majestic  river,  the  vast 
current  of  which  is  dark  with  the  infusion  of  the  swamp 
turf,  from  which  it  is  drained.  We  passed  Jacksonville,  a 
little  town  of  great  activity,  which  has  sprung  up  on  the 
sandy  bank  within  two  or  three  years.  Beyond,  we  swept 
by  the  mouth  of  the  Black  Creek,  the  water  of  which,  prob- 
ably from  the  color  of  the  mud  which  forms  the  bed  of  its 
channel,  has  to  the  eye  an  ebony  blackness,  and  reflects 
objects  with  all  the  distinctness  of  the  kind  of  looking-glass 
called  a  black  mirror.  A  few  hours  brought  us  to  Picolata, 
lately  a  military  station,  but  now  a  place  with  only  two 
houses. 


FORESTS    IN     FLORIDA.  99 


LETTER    XIII. 

ST.  AUGUSTINE. 

ST.  AUGUSTINE,  ) 

East  Florida,  April  2,  1843.  f 

WHEN  we  left  Picolata,  on  the  8th  of  April,  we  found 
ourselves  journeying  through  a  vast  forest.  A  road  of 
eighteen  miles  in  length,  over  the  level  sands,  brings  you  to 
this  place.  Tall  pines,  a  thin  growth,  stood  wherever  we 
turned  our  eyes,  and  the  ground  was  covered  with  the 
dwarf  palmetto,  and  the  whortleberry,  which  is  here  an 
evergreen.  Yet  there  were  not  wanting  sights  to  interest 
us,  even  in  this  dreary  and  sterile  region.  As  we  passed  a 
clearing,  in  which  we  saw  a  young  white  woman  and  a  boy 
dropping  corn,  and  some  negroes  covering  it  with  their  hoes, 
we  beheld  a  large  flock  of  white  cranes  which  rose  in  the 
air,  and  hovered  over  the  forest,  and  wheeled,  and  wheeled 
again,  their  spotless  plumage  glistening  in  the  sun  like  new- 
fallen  snow.  We  crossed  the  track  of  a  recent  hurricane, 
which  had  broken  oft'  the  huge  pines  midway  from  the 
ground,  and  whirled  the  summits  to  a  distance  from  their 
trunks.  From  time  to  time  we  forded  little  streams  of  a 
deep-red  color,  flowing  from  the  swamps,  tinged,  as  we 
were  told,  with  the  roots  of  the  red  bay,  a  species  of  mag- 


100  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLi:il. 

nolia.  As  the  horses  waded  into  the  transparent  crimson, 
we  thought  of  the  hatcheries  committed  by  the  Indians,  on 
that  road,  and  could  almost  fancy  that  the  water  was  still 
colored  with  the  blood  they  had  shed. 

The  driver  of  our  wagon  told  us  many  narratives  of  these 
murders,  and  pointed  out  the  places  where  they  were  com- 
mitted. He  showed  us  jsvhere  the  father  of  this  young 
woman  was  shot  dead  in  his  wagon  as  he  was  going  from 
St.  Augustine  to  his  plantation,  and  the  boy  whom  we  had 
seen,  was  wounded  and  scalped  by  them,  and  left  for  dead. 
In  another  place  he  showed  us  the  spot  where  a  party  of 
players,  on  their  way  to  St.  Augustine,  were  surprised  and 
killed.  The  Indians  took  possession  of  the  stage  dresses, 
one  of  them  arraying  himself  in  the  garb  of  Othello,  another 
in  that  of  Richard  the  Third,  and  another  taking  the  cos- 
tume of  Falstaff.  I  think  it  was  Wild  Cat's  gang  who 
engaged  in  this  affair,  and  I  was  told  that  after  the  capture 
of  this  chief  and  some  of  his  warriors,  they  recounted  the  cir- 
cumstances with  great  glee.  At  another  place  we  passed  a 
small  thicket  in  which  several  armed  Indians,  as  they  after- 
Ward  related,  lay  concealed  while  an  officer  of  the  United 
States  army  rode  several  times  around  it,  without  any  sus- 
picion of  their  presence.  The  same  men  committed, 
immediately  afterward,  several  murders  and  robberies  on 
the  road. 

At  length  we  emerged  upon  a  shrubby  plain,  and  finally 
came  in  sight  of  this  oldest  citv  of  the  United  States,  seated 


.STREETS     OF     ST.     AUGUSTINE.  101 

among  its  trees  on  a  sandy  swell  of  land  where  it  has  stood 
for  three  hundred  years.  I  was  struck  with  its  ancient  and 
homely  aspect,  even  at  a  distance,  and  could  not  help 
likening  it  to  pictures  which  I  had  seen  of  Dutch  towns, 
though  it  wanted  a  windmill  or  two,  to  make  the  resem- 
blance perfect.  We  drove  into  a  green  square,  in  the  midst 
of  which  was  a  monument  erected  to  commemorate  the 
Spanish  constitution  of  1812,  and  thence  through  the 
narrow  streets  of  the  city  to  our  hotel. 

I  have  called  the  streets  narrow.  In  few  places  are 
they  wide  enough  to  allow  two  carriages  to  pass  abreast.  I 
was  told  that  they  were  not  originally  intended  for  carriages, 
and  that  in  the  time  when  the  town  belonged  to  Spain, 
many  of  them  were  floored  with  an  artificial  stone,  com- 
posed of  shells  and  mortar,  which  in  this  climate  takes  and 
keeps  the  hardness  of  rock,  and  that  no  other  vehicle  than  a 
hand-barrow  was  allowed  to  pass  over  them.  In  some 
places  you  see  remnants  of  this  ancient  pavement,  but  for 
the  most  part  it  has  been  ground  into  dust  under  the  wheels 
of  the  carts  and  carriages,  introduced  by  the  new  inhab- 
itants. The  old  houses,  built  of  a  kind  of  stone  which  is 
seemingly  a  pure  concretion  of  small  shells,  overhang  the 
streets  with  their  wooden  balconies,  and  the  gardens 
between  the  houses  are  fenced  on  the  side  of  the  street  with 
high  walls  of  stone.  Peeping  over  these  walls  you  see 
branches  of  the  pomegranate  and  of  the  orange-tree,  now 
fragrant  with  flowers,  and,  rising  yet  higher,  the  leaning 
9* 


102  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

boughs  of  the  fig,  with  its  broad  luxuriant  leaves.  Occa- 
sionally you  pass  the  ruins  of  houses — walls  of  stone,  with 
arches  and  staircases  of  the  same  material,  which  once  be- 
longed to  stately  dwellings.  You  meet  in  the  streets  with 
men  of  swarthy  complexions  and  foreign  physiognomy,  and 
you  hear  them  speaking  to  each  other  in  a  strange  language. 
You  are  told  that  these  are  the  remains  of  those  who  in- 
habited the  country  under  the  Spanish  dominion,  and  that 
the  dialect  you  have  heard  is  that  of  the  island  of  Minorca. 
"  Twelve  years  ago,"  said  an  acquaintance  of  mine, 
"  when  I  first  visited  St.  Augustine,  it  was  a  fine  old 
Spanish  town.  A  large  proportion  of  the  houses,  which  you 
now  see  roofed  like  barns,  were  then  flat-roofed,  they  were  all 
of  shell-rock,  and  these  modern  wooden  buildings  were  not 
yet  erected.  That  old  fort,  which  they  are  now  repairing, 
to  fit  it  for  receiving  a  garrison,  was  a  sort  of  ruin,  for  the 
outworks  had  partly  fallen,  and  it  stood  unoccupied  by  the 
military,  a  venerable  monument  of  the  Spanish  dominion. 
But  the  orange-groves  were  the  ornament  and  wealth  of  St. 
Augustine,  and  their  produce  maintained  the  inhabitants  in 
comfort.  Orange-trees,  of  the  size  and  height  of  the  pear- 
tree,  often  rising  higher  than  the  roofs  of  the  houses,  em- 
bowered the  town  in  perpetual  verdure.  They  stood  so 
close  in  the  groves  that  they  excluded  the  sun.  and  the 
atmosphere  was  at  all  times  aromatic  with  their  leaves  and 
fruit,  and  in  spring  the  fragrance  of  the  flowers  was  almost 
oppressive." 


F  O  II  T     S  T  .     -M  AUK.  103 

These  groves  have  now  lost  their  beauty.  A  few  years 
since,  a  severe  frost  killed  the  trees  to  the  ground,  and  when 
they  sprouted  again  i'rom  the  roots,  a  new  enemy  made  its 
appearance — an  insect  of  the  coccus  family,  with  a  kind  of 
shell  on  its  back,  which  enables  it  to  withstand  all  the  com- 
mon applications  for  destroying  insects,  and  the  ravages  of 
which  are  shown  by  the  leaves  becoming  black  and  sere, 
and  the  twigs  perishing.  In  October  last,  a  gale  drove  in 
the  spray  from  the  ocean,  stripping  the  trees,  except  in 
sheltered  situations,  of  their  leaves,  and  destroying  the 
upper  branches.  The  trunks  are  now  putting  out  new 
sprouts  and  new  leaves,  but  there  is  no  hope  of  fruit  for  this 
year  at  least. 

The  old  fort  of  St.  Mark,  now  called  Fort  Marion,  a  fool- 
ish change  of  name,  is  a  noble  work,  frowning  over  the  Ma- 
timzas,  which  flows  between  St.  Augustine  and  the  island  of 
St.  Anastasia,  and  it  is  worth  making  a  long  journey  to  see. 
No  record  remains  of  its  original  construction,  but  it  is  sup- 
posed to  have  been  erected  about  a  hundred  and  fifty  years 
since,  and  the  shell-rock  of  which  it  is  built  is  dark  with 
time.  We  saw  where  it  had  been  struck  with  cannon-balls, 
which,  instead  of  splitting  the  rock,  became  imbedded  and 
clogged  among  the  loosened  fragments  of  shell.  This  rock 
is,  therefore,  one  of  the  best  materials  for  a  fortification  in 
the  world.  We  were  taken  into  the  ancient  prisons  of  the 
fort — dungeons,  one  of  which  was  dimly  lighted  by  a  grated 
window,  and  another  entirely  without  light ;  and  by  the 


104  LETTERS    OF    A     TRAVELLER. 

flame  of  a  torch  we  were  shown  the  half-obliterated  inscrip- 
tions scrawled  on  the  walls  long  ago  by  prisoners.  But  in 
another  corner  of  the  fort,  we  were  taken  to  look  at  two 
secret  cells,  which  were  discovered  a  few  years  since,  in 
consequence  of  the  sinking  of  the  earth  over  a  narrow 
apartment  between  them.  These  cells  are  deep  under 
ground,  vaulted  overhead,  and  without  windows.  In  one 
of  them  a  wooden  machine  was  found,  which  some  supposed 
might  have  been  a  rack,  and  in  the  other  a  quantity  of 
human  bones.  The  doors  of  these  cells  had  been  walled  up 
and  concealed  with  stucco,  before  the  fort  passed  into  the 
hands  of  the  Americans. 

"  If  the  Inquisition,"  said  the  gentleman  who  accom- 
panied us,  "  was  established  in  Florida,  as  it  was  in  the 
other  American  colonies  of  Spain,  these  were  its  secret 
chambers." 

Yesterday  was  Palm  Sunday,  and  in  the  morning  I  at- 
tended the  services  in  the  Catholic  church.  One  of  the 
ceremonies  was  that  of  pronouncing  the  benediction  over  a 
large  pile  of  leaves  of  the  cabbage-palm,  or  palmetto, 
gathered  in  the  woods.  After  the  blessing  had  been  pro- 
nounced, the  priest  called  upon  the  congregation  to  come 
and  receive  them.  The  men  came  forward  first,  in  the 
order  of  their  age,  and  then  the  women  ;  and  as  the  con- 
gregation consisted  mostly  of  the  descendants  of  Minorcans, 
Greeks,  and  Spaniards,  I  had  a  good  opportunity  of  observ- 
ing their  personal  appearance.  The  younger  portion  of  the 


TEMPERANCE.  105 

congregation  had,  in  general,  expressive  countenances. 
Their  forms,  it  appeared  to  me,  were  generally  slighter 
than  those  of  our  people  ;  and  if  the  cheeks  of  the  young 
women  were  dark,  they  had  regular  features  and  brilliant 
eyes,  and  finely  formed  hands.  There  is  spirit,  also,  in  this 
class,  for  one  of  them  has  since  been  pointed  out  to  me  in 
the  streets,  as  having  drawn  a  dirk  upon  a  young  officer 
who  presumed  upon  some  improper  freedoms  of  behavior. 

The  services  were  closed  by  a  plain  and  sensible  dis- 
course in  English,  from  the  priest,  Mr.  Rampon,  a  worthy 
and  useful  French  ecclesiastic,  on  the  obligation  of  tem- 
perance ;  for  the  temperance  reform  has  penetrated  even 
hither,  and  cold  water  is  all  the  rage.  I  went  again,  the 
other  evening,  into  the  same  church,  and  heard  a  person 
declaiming,  in  a  language  which,  at  first,  I  took  to  be 
Minorcan,  for  I  could  make  nothing  else  of  it.  After  listen- 
ing for  a  few  minutes,  I  found  that  it  was  a  Frenchman 
preaching  in  Spanish,  with  a  French  mode  of  pronunciation 
which  was  odd  enough.  I  asked  one  of  the  old  Spanish 
inhabitants  how  he  was  edified  by  this  discourse,  and  he 
acknowledged  that  he  understood  about  an  eighth  part  of  it. 

I  have  much  more  to  write  about  this  place,  but  must 
reserve  it  for  another  letter. 


106  LETTER'S     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 


LETTER    XIV. 

ST.   AUGUSTINE. 

ST.  AUGUSTINE,  April  24,  18-tS 

You  can  not  be  in  St.  Augustine  a  day  without  hearing 
some  of  its  inhabitants  speak  of  its  agreeable  climate.  •  Du- 
ring the  sixteen  days  of  my  residence  here,  the  weather  has 
certainly  been  as  delightful  as  I  could  imagine.  We  have 
the  temperature  of  early  June,  as  June  is  known  in  New 
York.  The  mornings  are  sometimes  a  little  sultry,  but  aftei 
two  or  three  hours,  a  fresh  breeze  comes  in  from  the  sea, 
sweeping  through  the  broad  piazzas  and  breathing  in  at  the 
windows.  At  this  season  it  comes  laden  with  the  fragrance 
of  the  flowers  of  the  Pride  of  India,  and  sometimes  of  the 
orange-tree,  and  sometimes  brings  the  scent  of  roses,  now  in 
full  bloom.  The  nights  are  gratefully  cool,  and  I  have  been 
told,  by  a  person  who  has  lived  here  many  years,  that  there 
are  very  few  nights  in  the  summer  when  you  can  sleep 
without  a  blanket. 

An  acquaintance  of  mine,  an  invalid,  who  has  tried  va 
rious  climates  and  has  kept  up  a  kind  of  running  fight  witr 
Death  for  many  years,  retreating  from  country  to  country  a» 
he  pursued,  declares  to  me  that  the  winter  climate  of  St.  Au 


EQUABLE     CLIMATE.  107 

gustine  is  to  be  preferred  to  that  of  any  part  of  Europe,  even 
that  of  Sicily,  and  that  it  is  better  than  the  climate  of  the 
West  Indies.  He  finds  it  genial  and  equable,  at  the  sam; 
time  that  it  is  not  enfeebling.  The  summer  heats  are  pre 
vented  from  being  intense  by  the  sea-breeze,  of  which  I  have 
spoken.  I  have  looked  over  the  work  of  Dr.  Forry  on  th- 
climate  of  the  United  States,  and  have  been  surprised  1i 
see  the  uniformity  of  climate  which  he  ascribes  to  Ke 
West.  As  appears  by  the  observations  he  has  collected,  the 
seasons  at  that  place  glide  into  each  other  by  the  softest 
gradations,  and  the  heat  never,  even  in  midsummer,  reaches 
that  extreme  which  is  felt  in  higher  latitudes  of  the  Ameri- 
can continent.  The  climate  of  Florida  is  in  fact  an  insular 
climate  ;  the  Atlantic  on  the  east  and  the  Gulf  of  Mexico 
on  the  west,  temper  the  airs  that  blow  over  it,  making  their, 
cooler  in  summer  and  warmer  in  winter.  I  do  not  wonder, 
therefore,  that  it  is  so  much  the  resort  of  invalids  ;  it  would 
be  more  so  if  the  softness  of  its  atmosphere  and  the  beauty 
and  serenity  of  its  seasons  were  generally  known.  Nor 
should  it  be  supposed  that  accommodations  for  persons  in 
delicate  health  are  wanting  ;  they  are  in  fact  becoming 
better  with  every  year,  as  the  demand  for  them  increases. 
Among  the  acquaintances  whom  I  have  made  here,  I  re- 
member many  who,  having  come  hither  for  the  benefit  of 
their  health,  are  detained  for  life  by  the  amenity  of  the 
climate.  "  It  seems  to  me,"  said  an  intelligent  gentleman 
of  this  class,  the  other  day,  "  as  if  I  could  not  exist  out  of 


108  LETTEB.S     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

Florida.  When  1  go  to  the  north,  I  feel  most  sensibly  the 
severe  extremes  of  the  weather ;  the  climate  of  Charleston 
itself,  appears  harsh  to  me." 

Here  at  St.  Augustine  we  have  occasional  frosts  in  the 
winter,  but  at  Tampa  Bay,  on  the  western  shore  of  the  pen- 
insula, no  further  from  this  place  than  from  New  York  to 
Albany,  the  dew  is  never  congealed  on  the  grass,  nor  is  a 
snow-flake  ever  seen  floating  in  the  air.  Those  who  have 
passed  the  winter  in  that  place,  speak  with  a  kind  of  rap- 
ture of  the  benignity  of  the  climate.  In  that  country  grow 
the  cocoa  and  the  banana,  and  other  productions  of  the 
West  Indies.  Persons  who  have  explored  Florida  to  the 
south  of  this,  during  the  past  winter,  speak  of  having  re- 
freshed themselves  with  melons  in  January,  growing  where 
they  had  been  self-sown,  and  of  having  seen  the  sugar-cane 
where  it  had  been  planted  by  the  Indians,  towering  un- 
cropped,  almost  to  the  height  of  the  forest  trees. 

I  must  tell  you,  however,  what  was  said  to  me  by  a  person 
who  had  passed  a  considerable  time  in  Florida,  and  had 
journeyed,  as  he  told  me,  in  the  southern  as  well  as  the 
northern  part  of  the  peninsula,  "  That  the  climate  is  mild 
and  agreeable,"  said  he,  "I  admit,  but  the  annoyance  to 
which  you  are  exposed  from  insects,  counterbalances  all  the 
enjoyment  of  the  climate.  You  are  bitten  by  mosquitoes 
and  gallinippers,  driven  mad  by  clouds  of  sand-flies,  and 
stung  by  scorpions  and  centipedes.  It  is  not  safe  to  go  to 
"bed  in  southern  Florida  without  looking  between  the  sheets, 


HEALTHFULNESS     OF     EAST     FLORIDA.  109 

to  see  if  there  be  not  a  scorpion  waiting  to  be  your  bed-fellow, 
nor  to  put  on  a  garment  that  has  been  hanging  up  in  your 
room,  without  turning  it  wrong  side  out,  to  see  if  a  scorpion 
has  not  found  a  lodging  in  it."  I  have  not,  however,  been 
incommoded  at  St.  Augustine  with  these  "  varmint,"  as  they 
call  them  at  the  south.  Only  the  sand-flies,  a  small  black 
rnidge,  I  have  sometimes  found  a  little  importunate,  when 
walking  out  in  a  very  calm  evening. 

Of  the  salubrity  of  East  Florida  1  must  speak  less  posi- 
tively, although  it  is  certain  that  in  St.  Augustine  emigrants 
from  the  north  enjoy  good  health.  The  owners  of  the 
plantations  in  the  neighborhood,  prefer  to  pass  the  hot  sea- 
son in  this  city,  not  caring  to  trust  their  constitutions  to  the 
experiment  of  a  summer  residence  in  the  country.  Of 
course  they  are  settled  on  the  richest  soils,  and  these  are  the 
least  healthy.  The  pine  barrens  are  safer ;  when  not  inter- 
spersed with  marshes,  the  sandy  lands  that  bear  the  pine 
are  esteemed  healthy  all  over  the  south.  Yet  there  are 
plantations  on  the  St.  John's  where  emigrants  from  the 
north  reside  throughout  the  year.  The  opinion  seems  every- 
where to  prevail,  and  I  believe  there  is  good  reason  for  it, 
that  Florida,  notwithstanding  its  low  and  level  surface,  is 
much  more  healthy  than  the  low  country  of  South  Carolina 
and  Georgia. 

The  other  day  I  went  out  with  a  friend  to  a  sugar  plan- 
tation in  the  neighborhood  of  St.  Augustine.  As  we  rode 
into  the  inclosure  we  breathed  the  fragrance  of  young 
10 


110  LETTERS    OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

orange-trees  in  flower,  the  glossy  leaves  of  which,  green  at 
all  seasons,  were  trembling  in  the  wind,  A  troop  of  negro 
children  were  at  play  at  a  little  distance  from  the  cabins, 
and  one  of  them  ran  along  with  us  to  show  us  a  grove  of 
sour  oranges  which  we  were  looking  for.  He  pointed  us  to 
a  copse  in  the  middle  of  a  field,  to  which  we  proceeded. 
The  trees,  which  were  of  considerable  size,  were  full  of 
flowers,  and  the  golden  fruit  was  thick  on  the  branches, 
and  lay  scattered  on  the  ground  below.  I  gathered  a  few 
of  the  oranges,  and  found  them  almost  as  acid  as  the  lemon. 
We  stopped  to  look  at  the  buildings  in  which  the  sugar  was 
manufactured.  In  one  of  them  was  the  mill  where  the 
cane  was  crushed  with  iron  rollers,  in  another  stood  the 
huge  cauldrons,  one  after  another,  in  which  the  juice  was 
boiled  down  to  the  proper  consistence  ;  in  another  were  bar- 
rels of  sugar,  of  syrup — a  favorite  article  of  consumption  in 
this  city — of  molasses,  and  a  kind  of  spirits  resembling 
Jamaica  rum,  distilled  from  the  refuse  of  the  molasses. 
The  proprietor  was  absent,  but  three  negroes,  well-clad 
young  men,  of  a  very  respectable  appearance  and  intelligent 
physiognomy,  one  of  whom  was  a  distiller,  were  occupied 
about  the  buildings,  and  showed  them  to  us.  Near  by  in 
the  open  air  lay  a  pile  of  sugar  cane,  of  the  ribbon  variety, 
striped  with  red  and  white,  which  had  been  plucked  up  by 
the  roots,  and  reserved  for  planting.  The  negroes  of  St. 
Augustine  are  a  good-looking  specimen  of  the  race,  and  have 
the  appearance  of  being  very  well  treated.  You  rarely  see 


QUARRIES    OF     SHELL-ROCK.  ] 1 1 

a  negro  in  ragged  clothing,  and  the  colored  children,  though 
slaves,  are  often  dressed  with  great  neatness.  In  the  colored 
people  whom  I  saw  in  the  Catholic  church,  I  remarked  a 
more  agreeable,  open,  and  gentle  physiognomy  than  I  have 
been  accustomed  to  see  in  that  class.  The  Spanish  race 
blends  more  kindly  with  the  African,  than  does  the  English, 
and  produces  handsomer  men  and  women. 

I  have  been  to  see  the  quarries  of  coquina,  or  shell-rock, 
on  the  island  of  St.  Anastasia,  which  lies  between  St. 
Augustine  and  the  main  ocean.  We  landed  on  the  island, 
and  after  a  walk  of  some  distance  on  a  sandy  road  through 
the  thick  shrubs,  we  arrived  at  some  huts  built  of  a  frame- 
work of  poles  thatched  with  the  radiated  leaves  of  the 
dwarf  palmetto,  which  had  a  very  picturesque  appearance. 
Here  we  found  a  circular  hollow  in  the  earth,  the  place  of 
an  old  excavation,  now  shaded  with  red-cedars,  and  the  pal- 
metto-royal bristling  with  long  pointed  leaves,  which  bent 
over  and  embowered  it,  and  at  the  bottom  was  a  spring 
within  a  square  curb  of  stone,  where  we  refreshed  ourselves 
with  a  draught  of  cold  water.  The  quarries  were  at  a  little 
distance  from  this.  The  rock  lies  in  the  ridges,  a  little 
below  the  surface,  forming  a  stratum  of  no  great  depth. 
The  blocks  are  cut  out  with  crowbars  thrust  into  the  rock. 
It  is  of  a  delicate  cream  color,  and  is  composed  of  mere 
shells  and  fragments  of  shells,  apparently  cemented  by  the 
fresh  water  percolating  through  them  and  depositing  cal- 
careous matter  brought  from  the  shells  above.  Whenever 


112  LETTERS    OF    A     TRAVELLER. 

there  is  any  mixture  of  sand  with  the  shells,  rock  is  not 
formed. 

Of  this  material  the  old  fort  of  St.  Mark  and  the  greater 
part  of  the  city  are  built.  It  is  said  to  become  harder 
when  exposed  to  the  air  and  the  rain,  but  to  disintegrate 
when  frequently  moistened  with  sea-water.  Large  blocks 
were  lying  on  the  shore  ready  to  be  conveyed  to  the  fort, 
which  is  undergoing  repairs.  It  is  some  consolation  to 
know  that  this  fine  old  work  will  undergo  as  little  change 
in  the  original  plan  as  is  consistent  with  the  modern  im- 
provements in  fortification.  Lieutenant  Benham,  who  has 
the  charge  of  the  repairs,  has  strong  antiquarian  tastes,  and 
will  preserve  as  much  as  possible  of  its  original  aspect.  It 
must  lose  its  battlements,  however,  its  fine  mural  crown. 
Battlements  are  now  obsolete,  except  when  they  are  of  no 
use,  as  on  the  roofs  of  churches  and  Gothic  cottages. 

In  another  part  of  the  same  island,  which  we  visited 
afterward,  is  a  dwelling-house  situated  amid  orange-groves. 
Closely  planted  rows  of  the  sour  orange,  the  native  tree  of 
the  country,  intersect  and  shelter  orchards  of  the  sweet 
orange,  the  lemon,  and  the  lime.  The  trees  were  all  young, 
having  been  planted  since  the  great  frost  of  1835,  and  many 
of  them  still  show  the  ravages  of  the  gale  of  last  October, 
which  stripped  them  of  their  leaves. 

"  Come  this  way,"  said  a  friend  who  accompanied  me. 
He  forced  a  passage  through  a  tall  hedge  of  the  sour  orange, 
and  we  found  ourselves  in  a  little  fragrant  inclosure,  in  the 


MliNORCANS.  113 


midst  of  which  was  a  tomb,  formed  of  the  artificial  stone  of 
which  I  have  heretofore  spoken.  It  was  the  resting-place 
of  the  former  proprietor,  who  sleeps  in  this  little  circle  of 
perpetual  verdure.  It  bore  no  inscription.  Not  far  from 
this  spot,  I  was  shown  the  root  of  an  ancient  palm-tree,  the 
species  that  produces  the  date,  which  formerly  towered  over 
the  island,  and  served  as  a  sea-mark  to  vessels  approaching 
the  shore.  Some  of  the  accounts  of  St.  Augustine  speak  of 
dates  as  among  its  fruits  ;  but  I  believe  that  only  the  male 
tree  of  the  date-palm  has  been  introduced  into  the  country. 
On  our  return  to  the  city,  in  crossing  the  Matarizas 
sound,  so  named  probably  from  some  sanguinary  battle  with 
the  aborigines  on  its  shores  ;  we  passed  two  Minorcans  in  a 
boat,  taking  home  fuel  from  the  island.  These  people  are  a 
mild,  harmless  race,  of  civil  manners  and  abstemious  habits. 
Mingled  with  them  are  many  Greek  families,  with  names 
that  denote  their  origin,  such  as  Geopoli,  Cercopoli,  &c.,  and 
with  a  cast  of  features  equally  expressive  of  their  descent. 
The  Minorcan  language,  the  dialect  of  Mahon,  cl  MaJumes, 
as  they  call  it,  is  spoken  by  more  than  half  of  the  inhabitants 
who  remained  here  when  the  country  was  ceded  to  the 
United  States,  and  all  of  them,  I  believe,  speak  Spanish  be- 
sides. Their  children,  however,  are  growing  up  in  disuse 
of  these  languages,  and  in  another  generation  the  last  traces 
of  the  majestic  speech  of  Castile,  will  have  been  effaced 
from  a  country  which  the  Spaniards  held  for  more  than  two 
hundred  years. 
|  10* 


114  LETTK.IS     OF      A      TRAVELLER. 

Some  old  customs  which  the  Minorcans  •  brought  with 
them  from  their  native  country  are  still  kept  up.  On  the 
evening  before  Easter  Sunday,  about  eleven  o'clock,  I 
heard  the  sound  of  a  serenade  in  the  streets.  Going  out, 
I  found  a  party  of  young  men,  with  instruments  of  music, 
grouped  about  the  window  of  one  of  the  dwellings,  singing 
a  hymn  in  honor  of  the  Virgin  in  the  Mahonese  dialect. 
They  began,  as  I  was  told,  with  tapping  on  the  shutter. 
An  answering  knock  within  had  told  them  that  their  visit 
was  welcome,  and  they  immediately  began  the  serenade.  If 
no  reply  had  been  heard  they  would  have  passed  on  to 
another  dwelling.  I  give  the  hymn  as  it  was  kindly  taken 
down  for  me  in  writing  by  a  native  of  St.  Augustine.  I 
presume  this  is  the  first  time  that  it  has  been  put  in  print, 
but  I  fear  the  copy  has  several  corruptions,  occasioned  by 
the  unskillfulness  of  the  copyist.  The  letter  e,  which  I 
have  put  in  italics,  represents  the  guttural  French  e,  or 
perhaps  more  nearly  the  sound  of  u  in  the  word  but.  The 
sh  of  our  language  is  represented  by  sc  followed  by  an  i 
or  an  e;  the  g  both  hard  and  soft  has  the  same  sound  as 
in  our  language. 

Disciarera  lu  dol, 
Cantarem  anb'  alagria, 
Y  n'arem  a  da 
Las  pascuas  a  Maria. 

0  Maria! 

Sant  Grabiel, 

Qiii  portaba  la  anbasciada ; 


SERENADE. 

Des  nostrc  rey  del  eel 
Estarau  vos  prefiada. 
Ya  omiliada, 
Tu  o  vais  aqui  serventa, 
Fia  del  Deu  contenta, 
Para  fe  lo  que  el  voL 

Disciarem  lu  dol,  &c. 

Y  a  milla  nit, 

Pariguero  vos  regina ; 

A  un  Deu  infinit, 

Dintra  una  establina. 

Y  a  millo  dia, 

Que  los  Angles  van  cantant 

Pau  y  abondant 

De  la  gloria  de  Deu  sol 

Disciarem  lu  dol,  <fcc. 

Y  a  Libalam, 
Alia  la  terra  santa, 
Nus  nat  Jesus, 
Anb'  alagria  tanta. 
Infant  petit 

Que  tot  lu  mon  salvaria ; 
Y  ningu  y  bastaria, 
N"u  mes  un  Deu  tot  sol. 

Disciarem  lu  dol,  etc. 


Cuant  d'Orien  lus 
Tres  reys  la  stralla  veran, 
Deu  omnipotent, 
Ador4  lo  vingaran. 
Un  present  inferan, 
De  mil  encens  y  or, 
A  lu  beneit  Seno, 
Que  conesce  cual  se  voL 

Disciarem  lu  dol,  <fec. 


115 


116  LETTERS     OF    A    TRAVELLER. 

Tot  fu  gayant 

Para  cumpli  lu  prumas ; 

Y  lu  Esperit  sant 

De  un  angel  fau  gramas. 

Gran  foe  ences, 

Que  crama  lu  curagia ; 

Deu  nos  da  lenguagia, 

Para  fe  lo  que  Deu  vol. 

Disciarem  lu  dol,  <fec. 

Cuant  trespasa 

De  quest  mon  nostra  Senora, 

Al  eel  s'empugia 

Sun  fil  la  matescia  ora. 

O  emperadora, 

Que  del  eel  sou  eligida ! 

Lu  rosa  florida, 

Me  resplanden  que  un  sol. 

Disciarem  lu  dol,  <fec. 

Y  el  tercer  giorn 
Que  Jesus  resunta, 
Deu  y  Aboroma,     ' 
Que  la  mort  triumfa. 
De  alii  se  balla 
Para  perldra  Lucife, 
An  tot  a  seu  peuda, 
Que  de  nostro  ser  el  sol. 

Disciarem  lu  dol,  <fcc.* 


*  The  following  is  a  Spanish  translation  of  this  hymn  as  taken  down 
in  writing  from  the  mouth  of  one  of  the  Mahonese,  as  they  call  them- 
selves, a  native  of  St.  Augustine.  The  author  does  not  hold  himself 
responsible  for  the  purity  of  the  Castilian. 

Dcjaremos  el  duelo, 
Cantarctnos  con  alegria, 


SERENADE.  117 

After  this  hymn,  the  following  stanzas,  soliciting  the  cus- 
tomary gift  of  cakes  or  eggs,  are  sung  : 

Ce  set  sois  que  vam  cantant, 

Regina  celastial ! 
Dunus  pau  y  alagria, 

Y  bonas  festaa  tingau. 
Yo  vos  dou  sus  bonas  festas, 

Danaus  dines  de  sus  nous ; 
Sempre  tarem  lus  mans  llestas 

Para  recibi  un  grapat  de  ous. 


E  iremos  a  dar 
Las  pascuas  4  Maria. 

O  Maria. 

San  Gabriel 

Aca  porto  la  embajada. 
De  nuestro  rey  del  ciel 

Estareis  prenada. 
Ya  humillada 

Tu  que  vais  aqui  servente, 

Hija  de  Dios  contenta 
Para  hacer  lo  que  el  quiere. 

Dejaremos  el  duelo,  &a. 

Y  a  media  noche, 

Paristeis  reyna 
A  un  Dios  inflnito 

Dentro  de  un  establo. 
Y  a  media  dia, 

Los  Angeles  van  cantando 

Paz  y  abundancia 
De  la  gloria  de  Dios  solo. 

Dejaremos  el  duelo,  &a. 

Y  a  Belem, 

Alia  en  la  tierra  santa, 
Nos  naci6  Gesus 

Con  alegria  tanta. 


118  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

Y  el  giorn  de  pascua  florida 
Alagramcs  7  giuntament ; 

As  qui  es  mort  par  darnos  vida 
Ya  viu  gloriosament. 


Nino  chiquito, 

Que  todo  el  mundo  salvaria  ; 

Y  ningun  bastaria 
Sino  un  Dios  todo  solo. 

Dejaremos  el  duelo,  &a. 

Cuando  del  Oriente  los 

Tres  reyes  la  estrella  vieron, 
Dios  omnipotente, 

Para  adorarlo  ivinieron. 
Un  regalo  inferieron, 

De  mil  incienaoa  y  oro, 

Al  bendito  Senor 
Que  sabe  qualquiera  cosa. 

Dejaremos  el  duelo,  &a. 

Todo  fu  pronto 

Para  cumplir  la  promesa ; 
Del  Espiritu  Santo 

Un  Angel  fue  mandado. 
Gran  fuego  encendido 

Que  quema  el  corage ; 

Dios  nos  de  lenguage 
Para  hacer  lo  que  quiere. 

Dejaremos  el  duelo,  &a. 

Cuando  so  fue 

De  este  mundo  nuestra  Senora, 
Al  ciel  se  empujo 

Su  hijo  la  misme  hora. 
O  emperadora, 

Que  del  ciel  soiselijida! 

La  rosa  florida, 
Mas  resplandesciente  que  un  sol ! 

Dejaremos  el  duelo,  &a. 


SERENADE.  119 

Aquesta  casa  esta.  empedrada, 

Bien  halla  que  la  empedro  ; 
Sun  amo  de  aquesta  casa 

Baldria  duna  un  do. 
Furmagiada,  o  empanada, 

Cucutta  o  flao ; 
Cual  se  vol  cosa  me  grada, 

Sol  que  no  me  digas  que  no.* 


Y  el tercer  dia 

Que  Gesus  resuscito, 
Dios  y  Veronica 

De  la  morte  triunfo. 
De  alii  se  bajo 

Para  perder  a  Lucifer, 

Con  todo  el  suo  poder, 
Que  dienuestro  ser  el  sol. 

Dejaremos  el  duelo,  &a. 

Thus  in  the  Spanish  translation  furnished  me : 
Estos  seis  versos  que  cantamos 

Eegina  celestial ! 
Dadnos  paz  y  alegria, 

Y  buenas  fiestas  tengais. 
Yo  vos  doy  sus  buenas  fiestas ; 

Dadnos  dinero  de  nuestras  nueces. 
Siempre  tendremos  las  manos  prestas. 

Para  recibir  un  cuatro  de  huevos. 

Y  el  dia  de  pascua  florida, 
Alegremonos  juntamente ; 

El  que  mori  para  darnos  vida 
Ya  vive  gloriosamente. 

Aquesta  casa  esta  empredrada, 

Bien  halla  que  la  empedro  ; 
El  amo  de  aquesta  casa, 

Quisiera  darnos  un  don. 
Quesadilla,  o  empanada, 

Cucuta,  o  flnon, 
Qualquiera  cosa  me  agrada, 

Solo  que  no  me  digas  que  no. 


120  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

The  shutters  are  then  opened  by  the  people  within,  and  a 
supply  of  cheese-cakes,  or  other  pastry,  or  eggs,  is  dropped 
into  a  bag  carried  by  one  of  the  party,  who  acknowledge  the 
gift  in  the  following  lines,  and  then  depart : 

Aquesta  casa  esta  empedrada, 
•          Empedrada  de  cuatro  vens ; 
Sun  amo  de  aquesta  casa, 
Es  omo  de  compliment.* 

If  nothing  is  given,  the  last  line  reads  thus  : 
No  ea  omo  de  compliment. 


Thus  in  the  Spanish : 

Aquesta  casa  esta  empedrada, 

Empedrada  de  cuatro  vientos ; 
El  amo  de  aquesta  casa 

Ea  hombre  de  cortesia. 
m-   • 


[ATANZAS     SOUND.  121 


LETTER  XV. 


SAVANNAH,  April  28,  1843. 

Ox  the  morning  of  the  24th,  we  took  leave  of  our  good 
friends  in  St.  Augustine,  and  embarked  in  the  steamer  for 
Savannah.  Never  were  softer  or  more  genial  airs  hreathed 
out  of  the  heavens  than  those  which  played  around  us  as 
we  ploughed  the  waters  of  the  Matanzas  Sound,  passing 
under  the  dark  walls  of  the  old  fort,  and  leaving  it  behind 
us,  stood  for  the  passage  to  the  main  ocean. 

ft  is  a  common  saying  in  St.  Augustine,  that  "  Florida  is 
the  best  poor  man's  country  in  the  world,"  and,  truly,  I  be- 
lieve that  those  who  live  on  the  shores  of  this  sound  find  it 
so.  Its  green  waters  teem  with  life,  and  produce  abun- 
dance of  the  finest  fish, 


" of  shell  or  fin, 

And  exquisites!  name." 

Clams  are  dug  up  on  the  pure  sands  along  the  beach, 
where  the  fishermen  drag  their  boats  ashore,  and  wherever 
the  salt  water  dashes,  there  is  an  oyster,  if  he  can  find 
aught  upon  which  to  anchor  his  habitation.  Along  the 
11 


122  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 


edge  of  the  marshes,  next  to  the  water,  you  see  a  row — a  wall 
I  should  rather  say — of  oysters,  apparently  sprouting  one  out 
of  another,  as  high  as  the  tide  flows.  They  are  called  here, 
though  I  do  not  know  why,  ratoon  oysters.  The  abun- 
dance of  fish  solves  the  problem  which  has  puzzled  many, 
how  the  Minorcan  population  of  St.  Augustine  live,  now 
that  their  orange-trees,  upon  which  they  formerly  depended, 
are  unproductive. 

In  the  steamboat  were  two  or  three  persons  who  had 
visited  Florida  with  a  view  of  purchasing  land.  Now  that 
the  Indian  war  is  ended,  colonization  has  revived,  and 
people  are  thronging  into  the  country  to  take  advantage  of 
the  law  which  assigns  a  hundred  and  sixty  acres  to  every 
actual  settler.  In  another  year,  the  influx  of  population 
will  probably  be  still  greater,  though  the  confusion  and  un- 
certainty which  exists  in  regard  to  the  title  of  the  lands, 
will  somewhat  obstruct  the  settlement  of  the  country. 
Before  the  Spanish  government  ceded  it  to  the  United 
States,  they  made  numerous  grants  to  individuals,  intended 
to  cover  all  the  best  land  of  the  territory.  Many  of  the 
lands  granted  have  never  been  surveyed,  and  their  situation 
and  limits  are  very  uncertain.  The  settler,  therefore,  if  he 
is  not  very  careful,  may  find  his  farm  overlaid  by  an  old 
Spanish  claim. 

I  have  said  that  the  war  is  ended.  Although  the 
Seminole  chief,  Sam  Jones,  and  about  seventy  of  his  people 
remain,  the  country  is  in  profound  peace  from  one  end  to 


THE     FLORIDA     WAR.  123 

the  other,  and  you  may  traverse  the  parts  most  distant 
from  the  white  settlements  without  the  least  danger  or 
molestation  from  the  Indians.  "  How  is  it,"  I  asked  one 
day  of  a  gentleman  who  had  long  resided  in  St.  Augustine, 
"  that,  after  what  has  happened,  you  can  think  it  safe  to  let 
these  people  remain  ?" 

"  It  is  perfectly  safe,"  he  answered.  "  Sam  Jones  pro- 
fesses, and  I  believe  truly,  to  have  had  less  to  do  with  the 
murders  which  have  heen  committed  than  the  other  chiefs, 
though  it  is  certain  that  Dr.  Perrine,  whose  death  we  so 
much  lament,  was  shot  at  Indian  Key  by  his  men.  Besides, 
he  has  a  quarrel  with  one  of  the  Seminole  chiefs,  whose  rel- 
ative he  has  killed,  and  if  he  were  to  follow  them  to  their 
new  country,  he  would  certainly  be  put  to  death.  It  is  his 
interest,  therefore,  to  propitiate  the  favor  of  the  whites  by 
the  most  unexceptionable  behavior,  for  his  life  depends  upon 
being  allowed  to  remain. 

"  There  is  yet  another  reason,  which  you  will  understand 
from  what  I  am  about  to  say.  Before  the  war  broke  out, 
the  Indians  of  this  country,  those  very  men  who  suddenly 
became  so  bloodthirsty  and  so  formidable,  were  a  quiet  and 
inoffensive  race,  badly  treated  for  the  most  part  by  the 
whites,  and  passively  submitting  to  ill  treatment  without 
any  appearance  of  feeling  or  spirit.  When  they  at  length 
resolved  upon  war,  they  concealed  their  families  in  the 
islands  of  the  Everglades,  whither  they  supposed  the  whites 
would  never  be  able  to  follow  them.  Their  rule  of  warfare 


124  LETTERS     OF     A     THAVELLEil. 

was  this,  never  to  endanger  the  life  of  one  of  their  warriors 
for  the  sake  of  gaining  the  greatest  advantage  over  their 
enemies ;  they  struck  only  when  they  felt  themselves  in 
perfect  safety.  If  they  saw  an  opportunity  of  destroying 
twenty  white  men  by  the  sacrifice  of  a  single  Indian,  the 
whites  were  allowed  to  escape.  Acting  on  this  principle, 
if  their  retreat  had  been  as  inaccessible  as  they  supposed  it, 
they  would  have  kept  up  the  warfare  until  they  had  driven 
the  whites  out  of  the  territory. 

"  When,  however,  General  Worth  introduced  a  new 
method  of  prosecuting  the  war,  following  up  the  Indians 
with  a  close  and  perpetual  pursuit,  chasing  them  into  their 
great  shallow  lake,  the  Everglades,  and  to  its  most  secret 
islands,  they  saw  at  once  that  they  were  conquered.  They 
saw  that  further  hostilities  were  hopeless,  and  returned  to 
their  former  submissive  and  quiet  demeanor. 

"  It  is  well,  perhaps,"  added  my  friend  in  a  kind  of 
postscript,  "  that  a  few  Indians  should  remain  in  Florida. 
They  are  the  best  hunters  of  runaway  slaves  in  the  world, 
and  may  save  us  from  a  Maroon  war." 

The  Indian  name  of  tire  Everglades,  I  am  told,  signifies 
Grass-water,  a  term  which  well  expresses  its  appearance. 
It  is  a  vast  lake,  broader  by  thousands  of  acres  in  a  wet 
than  in  a  dry  season,  and  so  shallow  that  the  grass  every- 
where grows  from  the  bottom  and  overtops  its  surface 
The  bottom  is  of  hard  sand,  so  firm  that  it  can  be  forded 
almost  everywhere  on  horseback,  and  here  and  there  are 


ST.    MARY'S. — SAND-PLIES.  125 

deep  channels  which  the  traveller  crosses  by  swimming  his 
horse. 

General  Worth's  success  in  quelling  the  insurrection  of 
the  Serninoles,  has  made  him  very  popular  in  Florida,  where 
the  energy  and  sagacity  with  which  the  closing  campaign  of 
the  war  was  conducted  are  spoken  of  in  the  highest  terms. 
He  has  lately  fixed  his  head-quarters  at  St  Augustine. 

In  the  afternoon,  our  steamer  put  in  between  two  sandy 
points  of  land  and  we  arrived  at  St  Mary's,  formerly  a 
buccaneer  settlement,  but  now  so  zealous  for  good  order 
that  our  captain  told  us  the  inhabitants  objected  to  his 
taking  in  wood  for  his  steamboat  on  Sunday.  The  place  is 
full  of  groves  of  the  orange  and  lime — young  trees  which 
have  grown  up  since  1835,  and  which,  not  having  suffered, 
like  those  of  St.  Augustine,  by  the  gale,  I  found  beautifully 
luxuriant.  In  this  place,  it  was  my  fate  to  experience  the 
plague  of  sand-flies.  Clouds  of  them  came  into  the  steam- 
boat alighting  on  our  faces  and  hands  and  stinging 
wherever  they  alighted.  The  little  creatures  got  into  our 
hair  and  into  our  eyes,  and  crawled  up  our  sleeves  and  down 
our  necks,  giving  us  no  rest,  until  late  in  the  night  the 
vessel  left  the  wharf  and  stood  out  into  the  river,  where  the 
current  of  air  swept  most  of  our  tormentors  away. 

The  next  morning,  as  we  were  threading  the  narrow 

channels  by  which  the  inland  passage  is  made  from  St. 

Mary's  to  Savannah,  we  saw,  from  time  to  time,  alligators 

basking  on  the  banks.     Some  of  our  fellow-passengers  took 

11* 


12()  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

rifles  and  shot  at  them  as  we  went  by.  The  smaller  ones 
were  often  killed,  the  larger  generally  took  the  rifle-balls 
upon  their  impenetrable  backs,  and  walked,  apparently  un- 
hurt, into  the  water.  One  of  these  monstrous  creatures  I  saw 
receive  his  death-wound,  having  been  fired  at  twice,  the 
balls  probably  entering  at  the  eyes.  In  his  agony  he  dashed 
swiftly  through  the  water  for  a  little  distance,  and  turning 
rushed  with  equal  rapidity  in  the  opposite  direction,  the 
strokes  of  his  strong  arms  throwing  half  his  length  above 
the  surface.  The  next  moment  he  had  turned  over  and  lay 
lifeless,  with  his  great  claws  upward.  A  sallow-com- 
plexioned  man  from  Burke  county,  in  Georgia,  who  spoke  a 
kind  of  negro  dialect,  was  one  of  the  most  active  in  this 
sport,  and  often  said  to  the  bystanders.  "  I  hit  the  'gator 
that  time,  I  did.''  We  passed  where  two  of  these  huge 
reptiles  were  lying  on  the  bank  among  the  rank  sedges,  one 
of  them  with  his  head  towards  us.  A  rifle-ball  from  the 
steamer,  struck  the  ground  just  before  his  face,  and  he  im- 
mediately made  for  the  water,  dragging,  with  his  awkward 
legs,  a  huge  body  of  about  fifteen  feet  in  length.  A  shower 
of  balls  fell  about  him  as  he  reached  the  river,  but  he  pad- 
dled along  with  as  little  apparent  concern  as  the  steamboat 
we  were  in. 

The  tail  of  the  alligator  is  said  to  be  no  bad  eating,  and 
the  negroes  are  fond  of  it.  I  have  heard,  however,  that  the 
wife  of  a  South  Carolina  cracker  once  declared  her  dislike 
of  it  in  the  following  terms  : 


ALLHiATOU     AND     TURNIPS.  127 

"  Coon,  and  collards  is  pretty  good  fixins,  but  'gator  and 
turnips  I  can't  go,  no  how." 

Collards,  you  will  understand,  are  a  kind  of  cabbage.  In 
this  country,  you  will  often  hear  of  long  collards,  a  favorite 
dish  of  the  planter. 

Among  the  marksmen  who  were  engaged  in  shooting 
alligators,  were  two  or  three  expert  chewers  of  the  Indian 
weed — frank  and  careless  spitters — who  had  never  been 
disciplined  by  the  fear  of  woman  into  any  hypocritical  con- 
cealment of  their  talent,  or  unmanly  reserve  in  its  exhibi- 
tion. I  perceived,  from  a  remark  which  one  of  them  let 
fall,  that  somehow  they  connected  this  accomplishment 
with  high  breeding.  He  was  speaking  of  four  negroes  who 
were  hanged  in  Georgia  on  a  charge  of  murdering  their 
owner. 

"  One  of  them,"  said  he,  "  was  innocent.  They  made  no 
confession,  but  held  up  their  heads,  chawed  their  tobacco, 
and  spit  about  like  any  gentlemen." 

You  have  here  the  last  of  my  letters  from  the  south. 
Savannah,  which  I  left  wearing  almost  a  wintry  aspect,  is 
now  in  the  full  verdure  of  summer.  The  locust-trees  are  in 
blossom  ;  the  water-oaks,  which  were  shedding  their  winter 
foliage,  are  now  thick  with  young  and  glossy  leaves  ;  the 
Pride  of  India  is  ready  to  burst  into  flower,  and  the  gardens 
are  full  of  rcses  in  bloorn. 


128  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 


LETTER    XVI. 

AN   EXCURSION   TO   VERMONT   AND    NEW   HAMPSHIRE. 

ADDISON  COUNTY,  Vermont,  July  10,  1843. 
I  DO  not  recollect  that  I  ever  heard  the  canal  connecting 
the  Hudson  with  Lake  Champlain  praised  for  its  beauty,  yet 
it  is  actually  beautiful — that  part  of  it  at  least  which  lies  be- 
tween Dunham's  Basin  and  the  lake,  a  distance  of  twenty-one 
miles,  for  of  the  rest  I  can  not  speak.  To  form  the  canal,  two 
or  three  streams  have  been  diverted  a  little  from  their  original 
course,  and  led  along  a  certain  level  in  the  valley  through 
which  they  flowed  to  pour  themselves  into  Champlain.  In 
order  to  keep  this  level,  a  perpetually  winding  course  has 
been  taken,  never,  even  for  a  few  rods,  approaching  a 
straight  line.  On  one  side  is  the  path  beaten  by  the  feet  of 
the  horses  who  drag  the  boats,  but  the  other  is  an  irregular 
bank,  covered  sometimes  with  grass  and  sometimes  wi'h 
shrubs  or  trees,  and  sometimes  steep  with  rocks.  I  was  de- 
lighted, on  my  journey  to  this  place,  to  exchange  a  seat  in  a 
stage-coach,  driven  over  the  sandy  and  dusty  road  north  of 
Saratoga  by  a  sulky  and  careless  driver,  for  a  station  on  the 
top  of  the  canal-packet.  The  weather  was  the  finest 


BEAUTY  OF  THE  CHAMPLAIN  CANAL.     129 

imaginable  ;  the  air  that  blew  over  the  fields  was  sweet 
with  the  odor  of  clover  blossoms,  and  of  shrubs  in  flower. 
A  canal,  they  say,  is  but  a  ditch  ;  but  this  was  as  urdike  a 
ditch  as  possible ;  it  was  rather  a  gentle  stream,  winding  in 
the  most  apparently  natural  meanders.  Goldsmith  could 
find  no  more  picturesque  epithet  for  the  canals  of  Holland, 
than  "  slow  ;" 

"  The  slow  canal,  the  yellow  blossomed  vale — " 

but  if  the  canals  of  that  country  had  been  like  this,  I  am 
sure  he  would  have  known  how  to  say  something  better  for 
them.  On  the  left  bank,  grassed  over  to  the  water's  edge, 
I  saw  ripe  strawberries  peeping  out  among  the  clover,  and 
shortly  afterward  a  young  man  belonging  to  the  packet 
leaped  on  board  from  the  other  side  with  a  large  basket  of 
very  fine  strawberries.  "  I  gathered  them,"  said  he  "  down 
in  the  swamp  ;  the  swamp  is  full  of  them."  "We  had 
them  afterward  with  our  tea. 

Proceeding  still  further,  the  scenery  became  more  bold. 
Steep  hills  rose  by  the  side  of  the  canal,  with  farm-houses 
scattered  at  their  feet ;  we  passed  close  to  perpendicular 
precipices,  and  rocky  shelves  sprouting  with  shrubs,  and 
under  impending  woods.  At  length,  a  steep  broad  moun- 
tain rose  before  us,  its  sides  shaded  with  scattered  trees  and 
streaked  with  long  horizontal  lines  of  rock,  and  at  its  foot  a 
cluster  of  white  houses.  This  was  Whitehall ;  and  here 
the  waters  of  the  canal  plunge  noisily  through  a  rocky  gorge 


130  LETTERS    OF    A    TRAVELLER. 

into  the  deep  basin  which  holds  the  long  and  narrow  Lake 
Champlain. 

There  was  a  young  man  on  board  who  spoke  English  im- 
perfectly, and  whose  accent  I  could  not  with  certainty  refer 
to  any  country  or  language  with  which  I  was  acquainted. 
As  we  landed,  he  leaped  on  shore,  and  was  surrounded  at 
once  by  half  a  dozen  persons  chattering  Canadian  French. 
The  French  population  of  Canada  has  scattered  itself  along 
the  shores  of  Lake  Champlain  for  a  third  of  the  distance 
between  the  northern  boundary  of  this  state  and  the  city  of 
New  York,  and  since  the  late  troubles  in  Canada,  more  nu- 
merously than  ever.  In  the  hotel  where  I  passed  the  night, 
most  of  the  servants  seemed  to  be  emigrants  from  Canada. 

Speaking  of  foreigners  reminds  me  of  an  incident  which 
occurred  on  the  road  between  Saratoga  Springs  and  Dun- 
ham's Basin.  As  the  public  coach  stopped  at  a  place  called 
Emerson,  our  attention  was  attracted  by  a  wagon-load  of 
persons  who  had  stopped  at  the  inn,  and  were  just  resuming 
their  journey.  The  father  was  a  robust,  healthy-looking 
man  of  some  forty  years  of  age  ;  the  mother  a  buxom  dame  ; 
the  children,  some  six  or  seven,  of  various  ages,  with  flaxen 
hair,  light-blue  eyes,  and  broad  ruddy  cheeks.  "  They  are 
Irish,"  said  one  of  my  fellow-passengers.  I  maintained  on 
the  contrary  that  they  were  Americans.  "  Git  ap,"  said 
the  man  to  his  horses,  pronouncing  the  last  word  very 
long.  "Git  ap  ;  go  'lang."  My  antagonist  in  the  dispute 
immediately  acknowledged  that  I  was  right,  for  "git  ap." 


LAKE     CHAM  PL  A  IN.  131 

and  "  go  'lang"  could  never  have  been,  uttered  with  such 
purity  of  accent  by  an  Irishman.  We  learned  on  inquiry 
that  they  were  emigrants  from  the  neighborhood,  proceeding 
to  the  Western  Canal,  to  take  passage  for  Michigan,  where 
the  residence  of  a  year  or  two  will  probably  take  somewhat 
from  the  florid  ruddiness  of  their  complexions. 

I  looked  down  into  the  basin  which  contains  the  waters 
of  the  Champlain,  lying  considerably  below  the  level  on, 
which  Whitehall  is  built,  and  could  not  help  thinking  that 
it  was  scooped  to  contain  a  wider  and  deeper  collection  of 
waters.  Craggy  mountains,  standing  one  behind  the  other, 
surround  it  on  all  sides,  from  whose  feet  it  seerns  as  if  the 
water  had  retired  ;  and  here  and  there,  are  marshy  recesses 
between  the  hills,  which  might  once  have  been  the  bays  of 
the  lake.  The  Burlington,  one  of  the  model  steamboats  for 
the  whole  world,  which  navigates  the  Champlain,  was  lying 
moored  below.  My  journey,  however,  was  to  be  by  land. 

At  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning  we  set  out  from  White- 
hall, in  a  strong  wagon,  to  cross  the  mountainous  country 
lying  east  of  the  lake.  "  Git  ap,"  said  our  good-natured 
driver  to  his  cattle,  and  we  climbed  and  descended  one  rug- 
ged hill  after  another,  passing  by  cottages  which  we  were 
told  were  inhabited  by  Canadian  French.  We  had  a 
passenger  from  Essex  county,  on  the  west  side  of  the  lake, 
a  lady  who,  in  her  enthusiastic  love  of  a  mountainous 
country,  seemed  to  wish  that  the  hills  were  higher ;  and 
another  from  the  prairies  of  the  western  states,  who, 
9* 


132  LETTERS     OF    A    TRAVELLER. 

accustomed  for  many  years  to  the  easy  and  noiseless 
gliding  of  carriages  over  the  smooth  summer  roads  of  that 
region,  could  hardly  restrain  herself  from  exclaiming  at 
every  step  against  the  ruggedness  of  the  country,  and 
the  roughness  of  the  ways.  A  third  passenger  was  an 
emigrant  from  Vermont  to  Chatauque  county,  in  the  state 
of  New  York,  who  was  now  returning  on  a  visit  to  his 
native  county,  the  hills  of  Vermont,  and  who  entertained  us 
by  singing  some  stanzas  of  what  he  called  the  Michigan 
song,  much  in  vogue,  as  he  said,  in  these  parts  before  he 
emigrated,  eight  years  ago.  Here  is  a  sample  : 

"  They  talk  about  Vermont, 

They  say  no  state's  like  that : 
'Tis  true  the  girls  are  handsome, 

The  cattle  too  are  fat. 
But  who  amongst  its  mountains 

Of  cold  and  ice  would  stay, 
When  he  can  buy  paraira 

In  Michigan-i-a  ?" 

By  "  paraira"  you  must  understand  prairie.  "It  is  a 
most  splendid  song,"  continued  the  singer.  "  It  touches  off 
one  state  after  another.  Connecticut,  for  example  :" 

"  Connecticut  has  blue  laws, 

And  when  the  beer,  on  Sunday, 
Gets  working  in  the  barrel, 
They  flog  it  well  on  Monday." 

At  Benson,  in  Vermont,  we  emerged  upon  a  smoother 
country,  a  country  of  rich  pastures,  fields  heavy  with  grass 


PASTORAL     COUNTRY    OF    VERMONT.  133 

almost  ready  for  the  scythe,  and  thick-leaved  groves  of  the 
sugar-maple  and  the  birch.  Benson  is  a  small,  hut  rather 
neat  little  village,  with  three  white  churches,  all  of  which 
appear  to  be  newly  built.  The  surrounding  country  is  chiefly 
fitted  for  the  grazing  of  flocks,  whose  fleeces,  however,  just 
at  present,  hardly  pay  for  the  shearing. 
12 


134  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 


LETTER  XVII. 

AN   EXCURSION   TO   VERMONT   AND   NEW   HAMPSHIRE. 

KKKNE,  New  Hampshire,  July  13,  1843. 

I  RESUME  my  journey  where  I  stopped  short  in  my  last, 
namely,  on  reaching  Benson,  in  Vermont,  among  the  high- 
lands west  of  Lake  Champlain.  We  went  on  through  a 
pastoral  country  of  the  freshest  verdure,  where  we  saw 
large  flocks  of  sheep  grazing.  From  time  to  time  we  had 
glimpses  of  the  summits  of  a  long  blue  ridge  of  mountains 
to  the  east  of  us,  and  now  and  then  the  more  varied  and 
airy  peaks  of  the  mountains  which  lie  to  the  west  of  the 
lake.  They  told  me  that  of  late  years  this  part  of  the 
country  had  suffered  much  from  the  grasshoppers,  and  that 
last  summer,  in  particular,  these  insects  had  made  their 
appearance  in  immense  armies,  devouring  the  plants  of  the 
ground  and  leaving  it  bare  of  herbage.  "  They  passed 
across  the  country,"  said  one  person  to  me,  "  like  hail 
storms,  ravaging  it  in  broad  stripes,  with  intervals  between 
in  which  they  were  less  numerous."" 

At  present,  however,  whether  it  was  the  long  and  severe 
winter  which  did  not  fairly  end  till  the  close  of  April,  or 
whether  it  was  the  uncommonly  showery  weather  of  the 


WHITE     CLOVER.  135 

season  hitherto,  that  destroyed  these  insects,  in  some  early 
stage  of  their  existence,  I  was  told  that  there  is  now  scarce 
a  grasshopper  in  all  these  meadows  and  pastures.  Every- 
where the  herbage  was  uncommonly  luxuriant,  and  every- 
where I  saw  the  turf  thickly  sprinkled  with  the  blossoms  of 
the  white  clover,  on  the  hill,  in  the  valley,  among  rocks,  by 
streams,  by  the  road-side,  and  whenever  the  thinner  shade 
of  the  woods  allowed  the  plants  of  the  field  to  take  root. 
We  might  say  of  the  white  clover,  with  even  more  truth 
than  Montgomery  says  of  the  daisy  : — 

"  But  this  bold  floweret  climbs  the  hill, 
Hides  in  the  forest,  haunts  the  glen, 
Plays  on  the  margin  of  the  rill, 
Peeps  o'er  the  fox's  den." 

All  with  whom  I  spoke  hc.d  taken  notice  of  the  uncom- 
mon abundance  of  the  white  clover  this  year,  and  the  idea 
seemed  to  prevail  that  it  has  its  regular  periods  of  appearing 
and  disappearing, — remaining  in  the  fields  until  it  has 
taken  up  its  nutriment  in  the  soil,  and  then  giving  place  to 
other  plants,  until  they  likewise  had  exhausted  the  qualities 
of  the  soil  by  which  they  were  nourished.  However  this 
may  be,  its  appearance  this  season  in  such  profusion, 
throughout  every  part  of  the  country  which  I  have  seen,  is 
very  remarkable.  All  over  the  highlands  of  Vermont  and 
New  Hampshire,  in  their  valleys,  in  the  gorges  of  their 
mountains,  on  the  sandy  banks  of  the  Connecticut,  the 


136  LETTERS    OF     A    TRAVELLER. 

atmosphere  for  many  a  league  is  perfumed  with  the  odor  of 
its  blossoms. 

I  passed  a  few  days  in  the  valley  of  one  of  those  streams 
of  northern  Vermont,  which  find  their  way  into  Champlain. 
If  I  \vere  permitted  to  draw  aside  the  veil  of  private  life,  I 
would  briefly  give  you  the  singular,  and  to  me  most  interest- 
ing history  of  two  maiden  ladies  who  dwell  in  this  valley. 
I  would  tell  you  how,  in  their  youthful  days,  they  took  each 
other  as  companions  for  life,  and  how  this  union,  no  less 
sacred  to  them  than  the  tie  of  marriage,  has  subsisted,  in 
\minterrupted  harmony,  for  forty  years,  during  which  they 
have  shared  each  other's  occupations  and  pleasures  and 
works  of  charity  while  in  health,  and  watched  over  each 
other  tenderly  in  sicknesss  ;  for  sickness  has  made  long  and 
frequent  visits  to  their  dwelling.  I  could  tell  you  how  they 
slept  on  the  same  pillow  and  had  a  common  purse,  and 
adopted  each  other's  relations,  and  how  one  of  them,  more 
enterprising  and  spirited  in  her  temper  than  the  other, 
might  be  said  to  represent  the  male  head  of  the  family,  and 
took  upon  herself  their  transactions  with  the  world  without, 
until  at  length  her  health  failed,  and  she  was  tended  by  her 
gentle  companion,  as  a  fond  wife  attends  her  invalid  husband. 
I  would  tell  you  of  their  dwelling,  encircled  with  roses,  which 
now  in  the  days  of  their  broken  health,  bloom  wild  without 
their  tendance,  and  I  would  speak  of  the  friendly  attentions 
which  their  neighbors,  people  of  kind  hearts  and  simple 
manners,  seem  to  take  pleasure  in  bestowing  upon  them, 


CANADIAN  FRENCH  LABORERS.        137 

tut  I  have  already  said  more  than  I  fear  they  will  forgive 
me  for,  if  this  should  ever  meet  their  eyes,  and  I  must  leave 
the  subject. 

One  day  I  had  taken  a  walk  with  a  farmer  of  the  place, 
over  his  extensive  and  luxuriant  pastures,  and  was  return- 
ing by  the  road,  when  a  well-made  young  fellow  in  a  cap. 
with  thick  curly  hair,  carrying  his  coat  on  his  arm,  wear 
ing  a  red  sash  round  his  waist,  and  walking  at  a  bri.sk 
pace,  overtook  us.  "  Etes-vous  Canadien  ?" — are  you  a 
Canadian  ?  said  my  companion.  "  Un  peu" — a  little — 
was  the  dry  answer.  "  Where  are  you  going?"  asked  the 
farmer  again,  in  English.  "  To  Middlebury,"  replied  he, 
and  immediately  climbed  a  fence  and  struck  across  a  field 
to  save  an  angle  in  the  road,  as  if  perfectly  familiar  with 
the  country 

"  These  Canadian  French,"  said  the  farmer,  "come 
swarming  upon  us  in  the  summer,  when  we  are  about  to 
begin  the  hay-harvest,  and  of  late  years  they  are  more  nu- 
merous than  formerly.  Every  farmer  here  has  his  French 
laborer  at  this  season,  and  some  two  or  three.  They  are 
hardy,  and  capable  of  long  and  severe  labor ;  but  many  of 
them  do  not  understand  a  word  of  our  language,  and  they 
are  not  so  much  to  be  relied  upon  as  our  own  countrymen  ; 
they,  therefore,  receive  lower  wages." 

"  What  do  you  pay  them  ?" 

"  Eight  dollars  a  month,  is  the  common  rate.  When 
they  leave  your  service,  they  make  up  their  packs,  and 
12* 


l38  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

brinir  them  for  your  inspection,  that  you  may  see  that  they 
have  taken  nothing  which  does  not  belong  to  them.  I  have 
heard  of  thefts  committed  by  some  of  them,  for  I  do  not 
suppose  that  the  best  of  the  Canadians  leave  their  homes 
for  work,  but  I  have  always  declined  to  examine  their  bag- 
gage when  they  quit  my  house." 

A  shower  drove  us  to  take  shelter  in  a  farm-house  by  the 
road.  The  family  spoke  with  great  sympathy  of  John,  a 
young  French  Canadian,  "  a  gentlemanly  young  fellow," 
they  called  him,  who  had  been  much  in  their  family,  and 
who  had  just  come  from  the  north,  looking  quite  ill.  He 
had  been  iu  their  service  every  summer  since  he  was  a  boy. 
At  the  approach  of  the  warm  weather,  he  annually  made 
his  appearance  in  rags,  and  in  autumn  he  was  dismissed,  a 
sprucely-dressed  lad,  for  his  home. 

On  Sunday,  as  I  went  to  church,  I  saw  companies  of 
tnese  young  Frenchmen,  in  the  shade  of  barns  or  passing 
along  the  road ;  fellows  of  small  but  active  persons,  with 
thick  locks  and  a  lively  physiognomy.  The  French  have 
become  so  numerous  in  that  region,  that  for  them  and  the 
Irish,  a  Roman  Catholic  church  has  been  erected  in  Middle- 
bury,  which,  you  know,  is  not  a  very  large  village. 

On  Monday  morning,  we  took  the  stage-coach  at  Middle- 
bury  for  tliis  place.  An  old  Quaker,  in  a  broad-brimmed 
hat  and  a  coat  of  the  ancient  cut,  shaped  somewhat  like  the 
upper  shell  of  the  tortoise,  came  to  hand  in  his  granddaugh- 
ter, a  middle-aged  woman,  whom  he  had  that  morning 


QUAKERS.  139 

accompanied  from  Lincoln,  a  place  about  eighteen  miles 
distant,  where  there  is  a  Quaker  neighborhood  and  a  Qua- 
ker meeting-house.  The  denomination  of  Quakers  seems  to 
be  dying  out  in  the  United  States,  like  the  Indian  race  ;  not 
that  the  families  become  extinct,  but  pass  into  other  denomi- 
nations. It  is  very  common  to  meet  with  neighborhoods 
formerly  inhabited  by  Gtuakers,  in  which  there  is  not  a  trace 
of  them  left.  Not  far  from  Middlebury,  is  a  village  on  a 
fine  stream,  called  Q,uaker  Village,  with  not  a  Gluaker  in  it. 
Everywhere  they  are  laying  aside  their  peculiarities  of  cos- 
tume, and  in  many  instances,  also,  their  peculiarities  of 
speech,  which  are  barbarous  enough  as  they  actually  exist, 
though,  if  they  would  but  speak  with  grammatical  propri- 
ety, their  forms  of  discourse  are  as  commodious  as  vener- 
able, and  I  would  be  content  to  see  them  generally  adopted. 
I  hope  they  will  be  slow  to  lay  aside  their  better  character- 
istics :  their  abhorrence  of  violence,  and  the  peaceful  and 
wholesome  subjection  in  which,  of  all  religious  denomina- 
tions, they  seem  to  have  best  succeeded  in  holding  the  pas- 
sions. In  such  remote  and  secluded  neighborhoods  as  Lin- 
coln, their  sect  will  probably  make  the  longest  stand  against 
the  encroachments  of  the  world.  I  perceived,  however,  that 
the  old  gentleman's  son,  who  was  with  him,  and,  as  I  learned, 
was  also  a  Q,uaker,  had  nothing  peculiar  in  his  garb. 

Before  sunset  we  were  in  sight  of  those  magnificent 
mountain  summits,  the  Pico,  Killington  Peak,  and  Shrews- 
bury Peak,  rising  in  a  deep  ultra-marine  blue  among  the 


140  LETTERS    OP     A     TRAVELLER. 

clouds  that  rolled  about  them,  for  the  day  was  showery. 
We  were  set  down  at  Rutland,  where  we  passed  the  night, 
and  the  next  morning  crossed  the  mountains  by  the  passes 
of  Clarendon  and  Shrewsbury.  The  clouds  were  clinging 
to  the  summits,  and  we  travelled  under  a  curtain  of  mist, 
upheld  on  each  side  by  mountain- walls.  A  young  woman 
of  uncommon  beauty,  whose  forefinger  on  the  right  hand 
was  dotted  all  over  with  punctures  of  the  needle,  and  who 
was  probably  a  mantua-maker,  took  a  seat  in  the  coach  for 
a  short  distance.  We  made  some  inquiries  about  the  coun- 
try, but  received  very  brief,  though  good-natured  answers, 
for  the  young  lady  was  a  confirmed  stammerer.  I  thought 
of  an  epigram  I  had  somewhere  read,  in  which  the  poet 
complimented  a  lady  who  had  this  defect,  by  saying  that 
the  words  which  she  wished  to  utter  were  reluctant  to 
leave  so  beautiful  a  mouth,  and  lingered  long  about  the 
pearly  teeth  and  rosy  lips. 

We  passed  through  a  tract  covered  with  loose  stones,  and 
the  Quaker's  granddaughter,  who  proved  to  be  a  chatty 
person,  told  us  a  story  which  you  may  possibly  have  heard 
before.  "  Where  did  you  get  all  the  stones  with  which  you 
have  made  these  substantial  fences  ?"  said  a  visitor  to  his 
host,  on  whose  grounds  there  appeared  no  lack  of  such  ma- 
terials. "Look  about  you  in  the  fields,  and  you  will  see," 
was  the  answer.  "  I  have  looked,"  rejoined  the  questioner, 
"  and  do  not  perceive  where  a  single  stone  is  missing,  and 
that  is  what  has  puzzled  me." 


BELLOWS  FALLS. KEENE.  141 

Soon  after  reaching  the  highest  elevation  on  the  road,  we 
entered  the  state  of  New  Hampshire.  Our  way  led  us 
into  a  long  valley  formed  by  a  stream,  sometimes  con- 
tracted between  rough  woody  mountains,  and  sometimes 
spreading  out,  for  a  short  distance,  into  pleasant  meadows ; 
and  we  followed  its  gradual  descent  until  we  reached  the 
borders  of  the  Connecticut.  We  crossed  this  beautiful  river 
at  Bellows  Falls,  where  a  neat  arid  thriving  village  has  its 
seat  among  craggy  mountains,  which,  at  a  little  distance, 
seem  to  impend  over  it.  Here  the  Connecticut  struggles 
and  foams  through  a  narrow  passage  of  black  rocks, 
spanned  by  a  bridge.  I  believe  this  is  the  place  spoken  of 
in  Peters's  History  of  Connecticut,  where  he  relates  that 
the  water  of  the  river  is  so  compressed  in  its  passage  be- 
tween rocks,  that  an  iron  bar  can  not  be  driven  into  it. 

A  few  miles  below  we  entered  the  village  of  Walpole, 
pleasantly  situated  on  the  knolls  to  the  east  of  the  mead- 
ows which  border  the  river.  Walpole  was  once  a  place  of 
some  literary  note,  as  the  residence  of  Dennie,  who,  forty 
years  since,  or  more,  before  he  became  the  editor  of  the 
Port  Folio,  here  published  the  Farmer's  Museum,  a  weekly 
sheet,  the  literary  department  of  which  was  amply  and  en- 
tertainingly filled. 

Keene,  which  ended  our  journey  in  the  stage-coach,  is  a 
flourishing  village  on  the  rich  meadows  of  the  Ashuelot, 
with  hills  at  %  moderate  distance  swelling  upward  on  all 
sides.  It  is  a  village  after  the  New  England  pattern,  and 


142  LETTERS     OF    A     TRAVELLER. 

a  beautiful  specimen  of  its  kind — broad  streets  planted 
with  rock-maples  and  elms,  neat  white  houses,  white 
palings,  and  shrubs  in  the  front  inclosures. 

During  this  visit  to  New  Hampshire,  I  found  myself  in  a 
hilly  and  rocky  region,  to  the  east  of  this  place,  and  in  sight 
of  the  summit  of  Monadnock,  which,  at  no  great  distance 
from  where  I  was,  begins  to  upheave  its  huge  dark  mass 
above  the  surrounding  country.  I  arrived,  late  in  the  even- 
ing, at  a  dwelling,  the  door  of  which  was  opened  to  me  by  two 
damsels,  all  health  and  smiles.  In  the  morning  I  saw  a 
third  sister  of  the  same  florid  bloom  and  healthful  propor- 
tions. They  were  none  of  those  slight,  frail  figures,  copies  of 
the  monthly  plates  of  fashion,  with  waists  of  artificial  slen- 
derness,  which  almost  force  you  to  wonder  how  the  different 
parts  of  the  body  are  kept  together — no  pallid  faces,  nor 
narrow  chests,  nor  lean  hands,  but  forms  which  might  have 
satisfied  an  ancient  statuary,  with  a  well-formed  bust,  faces 
glowing  with  health,  rounded  arms,  and  plump  fingers. 
They  are  such  women,  in  short,  as  our  mothers,  fifty  years 
ago,  might  have  been.  I  had  not  observed  any  particular 
appearance  of  health  in  the  females  of  the  country  through 
which  I  had  passed ;  on  the  contrary,  I  had  been  disap- 
pointed in  their  general  pallidness  and  look  of  debility.  I 
inquired  of  my  host  if  there  was  any  cause  to  which  this 
difference  could  be  traced. 

"  I  have  no  doubt  of  the  cause,"  replied  J^e.  "  These 
girls  are  healthy,  because  I  have  avoided  three  great  er- 


STRAWBERRIES.  143 

rors.  They  have  neither  been  brought  up  on  unwhole- 
some diet,  nor  subjected  to  unwholesome  modes  of  dress, 
nor  kept  from  daily  exercise  in  the  open  air.  They  have 
never  drunk  tea  or  coffee,  nor  lived  upon  any  other  than 
plain  and  simple  food.  Their  dress — you  know  that  even 
the  pressure  of  the  easiest  costume  impedes  the  play  of 
the  lungs  somewhat — their  dress  has  never  been  so  tight  as 
to  hinder  free  respiration  and  the  proper  expansion  of  the 
chest.  Finally,  they  have  taken  exercise  every  day  in  the 
open  air,  assisting  me  in  tending  my  fruit  trees  and  in  those 
other  rural  occupations  in  which  their  sex  may  best  take 
part.  Their  parents  have  never  enjoyed  very  good  health  ; 
nor  were  the  children  particularly  robust  in  their  infancy, 
yet  by  a  rational  physical  education,  they  have  been  made 
such  as  you  see  them." 

I  took  much  pleasure  in  wandering  through  the  woods  in 
this  region,  where  the  stems  of  the  primeval  forest  still 
stand — straight  trunks  of  the  beech,  the  maple,  the  ash,  and 
the  linden,  towering  to  a  vast  height.  The  hollows  are 
traversed  by  clear,  rapid  brooks.  The  mowing  fields  at 
that  time  were  full  of  strawberries  of  large  size  and  admi- 
rable flavor,  which  you  could  scarce  avoid  crushing  by 
dozens  as  you  walked.  I  would  gladly  have  lingered, 
during  a  few  more  of  these  glorious  summer  days,  in  this 
wild  country,  but  my  engagements  did  not  permit  it,  and 
here  I  am,  abo^t  to  take  the  stage-coach  for  Worcester  and 
the  Western  Railroad. 


144  LETTERS    OF    A     TRAVELLER. 


LETTER   XVIII. 

LIVERPOOL. MANCHESTER. 

MANCHESTER,  England,  May  30,  1845. 

I  SUPPOSE  a  smoother  passage  was  never  made  across  the 
Atlantic,  than  ours  in  the  good  ship  Liverpool.  For  two- 
thirds  of  the  way,  we  slid  along  over  a  placid  sea,  before 
the  gentlest  zephyrs  that  ever  swept  the  ocean,  and  when  at 
length  the  winds  became  contrary,  they  only  impeded  our 
progress,  without  making  it  unpleasant.  The  Liverpool  is 
one  of  the  strongest,  safest,  and  steadiest  of  the  packet-ships  ; 
her  commander  prudent,  skillful,  always  on  the  watch,  and  as 
it  almost  seemed  to  me,  in  every  part  of  the  vessel  at  once  ; 
the  passengers  were  good-tempered  and  quiet,  like  the  sea 
on  which  we  were  sailing  ;  and  with  all  these  advantages 
in  our  favor,  I  was  not  disposed  to  repine  that  we  were  a 
week  longer  in  crossing  the  Atlantic,  than  some  vessels  which 
left  New  York  nearly  the  same  time. 

It  was  matter  of  rejoicing  to  all  of  us,  however,  when  we 
saw  the  Irish  coast  like  a  faint  cloud  upon  the  horizon,  and 
still  more  were  we  delighted,  when  after  bating  about  for 
several  days  in  what  is  called  the  Chops  of  the  Channel,  \ve 


MOUNTAINS     OF     WALES.  145 

beheld  the  mountains  of  Wales.  I  could  hardly  believe  that 
what  I  saw  were  actually  mountain  summits,  so  dimly  were 
their  outlines  defined  in  the  vapory  atmosphere  of  this 
region,  the  nearer  and  lower  steeps  only  being  fully 
visible,  and  the  higher  and  remoter  ones  half  lost  in  the 
haze.  It  seemed  to  me  as  if  I  were  looking  at  the  reflection 
of  mountains  in  a  dull  mirror,  and  I  was  ready  to  take  out 
my  pocket-handkerchief  to  wipe  the  dust  and  smoke  from  its 
surface.  About  thirty  miles  from  Liverpool  we  took  on 
board  a  pilot,  whose  fair  complexion,  unbronzed  by  the  sun, 
was  remarked  by  the  ladies,  and  soon  after  a  steamer 
arrived  arid  took  us  in  tow.  At  twelve  o'clock  in  the  night, 
the  Liverpool  by  the  aid  of  the  high  tide  cleared  the  sand- 
bar at  the  mouth  of  the  port,  and  was  dragged  into  the  dock, 
and  the  next  morning  when  I  awoke,  I  found  myself  in 
Liverpool  in  the  midst  of  fog  and  rain. 

"  Liverpool,"  said  one  of  its  inhabitants  to  me,  "  is  more 
like  an.  American  than  an  English  city  ;  it  is  new,  bustling, 
and  prosperous."  I  saw  some  evidences  of  this  after  I  had 
got  rny  baggage  through  the  custom-house,  which  was  at- 
tended with  considerable  delay,  the  officers  prying  very 
closely  into  the  contents  of  certain  packages  which  I  was 
taking  for  friends  of  mine  to  their  friends  in  England,  cut- 
ting the  packthread,  breaking  the  seals,  and  tearing  the 
wrappers  without  mercy.  I  saw  the  streets  crowded  with 
huge  drays,  carrying  merchandise  to  and  fro,  and  admired 
the  solid  construction  of  the  docks,  in  which  lay  thousands 
13 


146  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

of  vessels  from  all  parts  of  the  globe.  The  walls  of  these 
docks  are  built  of  large  blocks  of  red  sandstone,  with  broad 
gateways  opening  to  the  river  Mersey,  and  when  the  tide 
is  at  its  height,  which  I  believe  is  about  thirty  feet  from  low 
water,  the  gates  are  open,  and  vessels  allowed  to  enter  and 
depart.  When  the  tide  begins  to  retire,  the  gates  are 
closed,  and  the  water  and  the  vessels  locked  in  together. 
Along  the  river  for  miles,  the  banks  are  flanked  with  this 
massive  masonry,  which  in  some  places  I  should  judge. to  be 
nearly  forty  feet  in  height.  Meantime  the  town  is  spread 
ing  into  the  interior  ;  hew  streets  are  opened  ;  in  one  field 
you  may  see  the  brickmakers  occupied  in  their  calling,  and 
in  the  opposite  one  the  bricklayers  building  rows  of  houses. 
New  churches  and  new  public  buildings  of  various  kinds 
are  going  up  in  these  neighborhoods. 

The  streets  which  contain  the  shops  have  for  the  most 
part  a  gay  and  showy  appearance ;  the  buildings  are 
generally  of  stucco,  and  show  more  of  architectural  decora- 
tion than  in  our  cities.  The  greater  part  of  the  houses, 
however,  are  built  of  brick  which  has  a  rough  surface,  and 
soon  acquires  in  this  climate  a  dark  color,  giving  a  gloomy 
aspect  to  the  streets.  The  public  buildings,  which  are 
rather  numerous,  are  of  a  drab-colored  freestone,  and  those 
which  have  been  built  for  forty  or  fifty  years,  the  Town  Hall, 
for  example,  and  some  of  the  churches,  appear  almost  of  a 
sooty  hue.  I  went  through  the  rooms  of  the  Town  Hall  and 
was  shown  the  statue  of  Canning,  by  Chantry,  an  impre^ive 


ZOOLOGICAL     GARDENS.  147 

work  as  it  seemed  to  me.  One  of  the  rooms  contains  a 
portrait  of  him  by  Lawrence,  looking  very  much  like  a 
feeble  old  gentleman  whom  I  remember  as  not  long  since 
an  appraiser  in  the  New  York  custom-house.  We  were 
shown  a  lofty  saloon  in  which  the  Common  Council  of 
Liverpool  enjoy  their  dinners,  and  very  good  dinners  the 
woman  who  showed  us  the  rooms  assured  us  they  were. 
But  the  spirit  of  corporation  reform  has  broken  in  upon  the 
old  order  of  things,  and  those  good  dinners  which  a  year  or 
two  since  were  eaten  weekly,  are  now  eaten  but  once  a 
fortnight,  and  money  is  saved. 

I  strolled  to  the  Zoological  Gardens,  a  very  pretty  little 
place,  where  a  few  acres  of  uneven  surface  have  been  orna- 
mented with  plantations  of  flowering  shrubs,  many  of  which 
are  now  in  full  bloom,  artificial  ponds  of  water,  rocks,  and 
bridges,  and  picturesque  buildings  for  the  animals.  Wind- 
ing roads  are  made  through  the  green  turf,  which  is  now 
sprinkled  with  daisies.  It  seems  to  be  a  favorite  place  of 
resort  for  the  people  of  the  town.  They  were  amused  by 
the  tricks  of  an  elephant,  the  performances  of  a  band  of 
music,  which  among  other  airs  sang  and  played  "  Jim  along 
Josey,"  and  the  feats  of  a  young  fellow  who  gave  an  illus- 
tration'of  the  centrifugal  force  by  descending  a  Montagne 
Russe  in  a  little  car,  which  by  the  help  of  a  spiral  curve  in 
the  railway,  was  made  to  turn  a  somerset  in  the  middle  of 
its  passage,  and  brought  him  out  at  the  end  with  his  cap 
off:  and  his  hair  on  end. 


148  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  places  in  Liverpool,  is  St 
James's  Cemetery.  In  the  midst  of  the  populous  and  bus- 
tling city,  is  a  chasm  among  the  black  rocks,  with  a  narrow 
green  level  at  the  bottom.  It  is  overlooked  by  a  little 
chapel.  You  enter  it  by  an  arched  passage  cut  through  the 
living  rock,  which  brings  you  by  a  steep  descent  to  the  nar- 
row level  of  which  I  have  spoken,  where  you  find  yourself 
among  graves  set  with  flowers  and  half  concealed  by  shrub- 
bery, while  along  the  rocky  sides  of  the  hollow  in  which 
you  stand,  you  see  tombs  or  blank  arches  for  tombs  which 
are  yet  to  be  excavated.  We  found  the  thickets  within  and 
around  this  valley  of  the  dead,  musical  with  innumerable 
birds,  which  build  here  undisturbed.  Among  the  monu- 
ments is  one  erected  to  Huskisson,  a  mausoleum  with  a 
glass  door  through  which  you  see  his  statue  from  the  chisel 
of  Gibson.  On  returning  by  the  passage  through  the  rock, 
we  found  preparations  making  for  a  funeral  service  in  the 
chapel,  which  we  entered.  Four  men  came  staggering  ii 
under  the  weight  of  a'  huge  coffin,  accompanied  by  a  clei 
man  of  imposing  stature,  white  hair,  and  florid  complexion. 
Four  other  coffins  were  soon  after  brought  in  and  placed  in 
the  church,  attended  by  another  clergyman  of  less  pre-pos- 
sessing  appearance,  who,  to  my  disappointment,  read  the 
service.  He  did  it  in  the  most  detestable  manner,  with 
much  grimace,  and  with  the  addition  of  a  supernumerary 
syllable  after  almost  every  word  ending  with  a  consonant. 
The  clerk  delivered  the  responses  in  such  a  mumbling  tone, 

, 


ORNAMENTAL     CULTIVATION.  149 

and  with  so  much  of  the  Lancashire  dialect,  as  to  be  almost 
unintelligible.  The  other  clergyman  looked,  I  thought,  as 
if,  like  myself,  he  was  sorry  to  hear  the  beautiful  funeral 
service  of  his  church  so  profaned.  . 

In  a  drive  which  we  took  into  the  country,  we  had  occa- 
sion to  admire  the  much  talked  of  verdure  and  ornamental 
cultivation  of  England.  Green  hedges,  rich  fields  of  grass 
sprinkled  with  flowers,  beautiful  residences,  were  on  every 
side,  and  the  wheels  of  our  carriage  rolled  over  the  smoothest 
roads  in  the  world.  The  lawns  before  the  houses  are  kept 
smoothly  shaven,  and  carefully  leveled  by  the  roller.  A.t  one 
of  these  English  houses,  to  which  I  was  admitted  by  the 
hospitality  of  its  opulent  owner,  I  admired  the  variety  of 
shrubs  in  full  flower,  which  here  grow  in  the  open  air, 
rhododendrons  of  various  species,  flushed  with  bloom,  azaleas 
of  different  hues,  one  of  which  I  recognized  as  American, 
and  others  of  various  families  and  names.  In  a  neighboring 
field  stood  a  plot  of  rye-grass  two  feet  in  height,  notwith- 
standing the  season  was  yet  so  early ;  and  a  part  of  it  had 
been  already  mown  for  the  food  of  cattle.  Yet  the  people 
here  complain  of  their  climate.  "  You  must  get  thick  shoes 
and  wrap  yourself  in  flannel,"  said  one  of  them  to  me. 
"  The  English  climate  makes  us  subject  to  frequent  and 
severe  colds,  and  here  in  Lancashire  you  have  the  worst 
climate  of  England,  perpetually  damp,  with  strong  and 
chilly  winds." 

It  is  true  that  I  have  found  the  climate  miserably  chilly 
13* 

* 


150  I.  K  T  T  F.  II  S     O  F     A     T  R  A  V  K  I.  L  E  R. 

since  I  landed,  b'lt  I  am  told  the  season  is  a  late  one.  The 
apple-trees  are  just  in  hloom,  though  there  are  but  few  of 
them  to  be  seen,  and  the  blossoms  of  the  hawthorn  are 
only  just  beginning  to  open.  The  foliage  of  some  of  the 
trees,  rich  as  it  is,  bears  the  appearance  in  some  places  of 
having  felt  the  late  frosts,  and  certain  kinds  of  trees  are  not 
yet  in  leaf. 

Among  the  ornaments  of  Liverpool  is  the  new  park 
called  Prince's  Park,  which  a  wealthy  individual,  Mr. 
Robert  Yates,  has  purchased  and  laid  out  with  a  view  of 
making  it  a  place  for  private  residences.  It  has  a  pretty 
little  lake,  plantations  of  trees  and  shrubs  which  have  just 
began  to  strike  root,  pleasant  nooks  and  hollows,  eminences 
which  command  extensive  views,  and  the  whole  is  traversed 
with  roads  which  are  never  allowed  to  proceed  from  place  to 
place  in.  a  straight  line.  The  trees  are  too  newly  planted  to 
allow  me  to  call  the  place  beautiful,  but  within  a  few 
years  it  will  be  eminently  so. 

I  have  followed  the  usual  practice  of  travellers  in  visiting 
the  ancient  town  of  Chester,  one  of  the  old  walled  towns  of 
England,  distant  about  fifteen  miles  from  Liverpool — 
rambled  through  the  long  galleries  open  to  the  street,  above 
the  ground-story  of  the  houses,  entered  its  crumbling  old 
churches  of  red  freestone,  one  of  which  is  the  church  of  St. 
John,  of  Norman  architecture,  with  round  arches  and  low 
massive  pillars,  and  looked  at  the  grotesque  old  carvings  rep- 
resenting events  in  Scripture  history  which  ornament  some 


of  the  houses  in  Watergate-street.  The  walls  are  said  to 
have  been  erected  as  early  as  the  time  of  William  the 
Conqueror,  and  here  and  there  are  towers  rising  above  them. 
They  are  still  kept  in  repair  and  afford  a  walk  from  which 
you  enjoy  a  prospect  of  the  surrounding  country ;  but  no  an- 
cient monument  is  allowed  to  stand  in  the  wav  of  modern 
improvements  as  they  are  called,  and  1  found  workmen  at. 
one  corner  tumbling  down  the  stones  and  digging  up  the 
foundation  to  let  in  a  railway.  The  river  Dee  winds 
pleasantly  at  the  foot  of  the  city  walls.  I  was  amused  by 
an  instance  of  the  English  fondness  for  hedges  which  I 
saw  here.  In  a  large  green  field  a  hawthorn  hedge 
was  planted,  all  along  the  city  wall,  as  if  merely  for  the 
purpose  of  hiding  the  hewn  stone  with  a  screen  of 
verdure. 

Yesterday  we  took  the  railway  for  Manchester.  The  ar- 
rangements for  railway  travelling  in  this  country  are  much 
more  perfect  than  with  us.  The  cars  of  the  first  class  are 
fitted  up  in  the  most  sumptuous  manner,  cushioned  at  the 
back  and  sides,  with  a  resting-place  for  your  elbows,  so  that 
you  sit  in  what  is  equivalent  to  the  most  luxurious  arm- 
chair. Some  of  the  cars  intended  for  night  travelling  are 
so  contrived  that  the  seat  can  be  turned  into  a  kind  of  bed. 
The  arrangement  of  springs  and  other  contrivances  to  pre- 
vent shocks,  and  to  secure  an  equable  motion,  are  admirable 
and  perfectly  effectual.  In  one  hour  we  had  passed  over 
the  thirty-one  miles  which  separate  Manchester  from 


152  LETTERS    OF    A     TRAVELLER. 

Liverpool ;  shooting  rapidly  over  Chat  Moss,  a  black  blot  in 
the  green  landscape,  overgrown  with  heath,  which,  at  this 
season  of  the  year,  has  an  almost  sooty  hue,  crossing  bridge 
after  bridge  of  the  most  solid  and  elegant  construction,  and 
finally  entered  Manchester  by  a  viaduct,  built  on  massive 
arches,  at  a  level  with  the  roofs  of  the  houses  and  churches. 
Huge  chimneys  surrounded  us  on  every  side,  towering  above 
the  house-tops  and  the  viaduct,  and  vomiting  smoke  like 
a  hundred  volcanoes.  We  descended  and  entered  Market- 
street,  broad  and  well-built,  and  in  one  of  the  narrowest 
streets  leading  into  it,  we  were  taken  to  our  comfortable 
hotel. 

At  Manchester  we  walked  through  the  different  rooms  of 
a  large  calico-printing  establishment.  In  one  were  strong- 
bodied  men  standing  over  huge  caldrons  ranged  along  a 
furnace,  preparing  arid  stirring  up  the  colors  ;  in  another 
were  the  red-hot  cylinders  that  singe  the  down  from  the 
cloth  before  it  is  stamped  ;  in  another  the  machines  that 
stamp  the  colors  and  the  heated  rollers  that  dry  the  fabric 
after  it  is  stamped.  One  of  the  machines  which  we  were 
shown  applies  three  different  colors  by  a  single  operation. 
In  another  part  of  the  establishment  was  the  apparatus  for 
steaming  the  calicoes  to  fasten  the  colors  ;  huge  hollow 
iron  wheels  into  which  and  out  of  which  the  water  Avas 
continually  running  and  revolving  in  another  part  to  Avash 
the  superfluous  dye  from  the  stamped  cloths  ;  the  operation 
of  drying  and  pressing  them  came  next  arid  in  a  large 


MANCHESTER  COTTON- MILLS.          153 

room,  a  group  of  young  women,  noisy,  drab-like,  and  dirty, 
were  engaged  in  measuring  and  folding  them. 

This  morning  we  take  the  coach  for  the  Peak  of  Derby- 
shire. 


154  LETTERS    OF    A     TRAVELLER. 


LETTER    XIX. 

EDALE     IN    DERBYSHIRE. 

DERBY,  England,  June  3, 1845. 

I  HAVE  passed  a  few  pleasant  days  in  Derbyshire,  the 
chronicle  of  which  I  will  give  you. 

On  the  morning  of  the  30th  of  May,  we  took  places  at 
Manchester  in  the  stage-coach  for  Chapel-en-le-Frith.  We 
waited  for  some  time  before  the  door  of  the  Three  Angels  in 
Market-street,  the  finest  street  in  Manchester,  broad  and 
well-built,  while  the  porters  were  busy  in  fastening  to  the 
vehicle  the  huge  loads  of  luggage  with  which  the  English 
commonly  travel.  As  I  looked  on  the  passers  by,  I  was 
again  struck  with  what  I  had  observed  almost  immediately 
on  entering  the  town — the  portly  figures  and  florid  com- 
plexions of  some,  and  the  very  diminutive  stature  and 
sallow  countenances  of  others.  Among  the  crowds  about 
the  coach,  was  a  ruddy  round-faced  man  in  a  box-coat  and 
a  huge  woollen  cravat,  walking  about  and  occasionally 
giving  a  look  at  the  porters,  whom  we  took  to  be  the  coach- 
man, so  well  did  his  appearance  agree  with  the  description 
usually  given  of  that  class.  "We  were  not  mistaken,  for  in 


A    DERBYSHIRE     MAN.  155 

a  short  lime  we  saw  him  buttoning  his  coat,  and  delib- 
erately disentangling  the  lash  from  the  handle  of  a  long 
coach  whip.  We  took  our  seats  with  him  on  the  outside  of 
the  coach,  and  were  rolled  along  smoothly  through  a  level 
country  of  farms  and  hedge-rows,  and  fields  yellow  with 
buttercups,  until  at  the  distance  of  seven  miles  we  reached 
Stockport,  another  populous  manufacturing  town  lying  in 
the  smoke  of  its  tall  chimneys.  At  nearly  the  same  dis- 
tance beyond  Stockport,  the  country  began  to  swell  into 
hills,  divided  by  brooks  and  valleys,  and  the  hedge-rows 
gave  place  to  stone  fences,  which  seamed  the  green  region, 
bare  of  trees  in  every  direction,  separating  it  into  innumer- 
able little  inclosures.  A  few  miles  further,  brought  us  into 
that  part  of  Derbyshire  which  is  called  the  Peak,  where  the 
hills  become  mountains. 

Among  our  fellow-passengers,  was  a  powerfully  made 
man,  who  had  the  appearance  of  being  a  commercial  trav- 
eller, and  was  very  communicative  on  the  subject  of  the 
Peak,  its  caverns,  its  mines,  and  the  old  ruined  castle  of  the 
Peverils,  built,  it  is  said,  by  one  of  the  Norman  invaders  of 
England.  He  spoke  in  the ,  Derbyshire  dialect,  with  a 
strong  provincial  accent.  When  he  was  asked  whether  the 
castle  was  not  the  one  spoken  of  by  Scott,  in  his  Peveril  of 
the  Peak,  he  replied, 

"  Scott  ?  Scott  ?  I  dunna  know  him." 

Chapel-en-le-Frith  is  a  manufacturing  village  at  the  bot- 
tom of  a  narrow  valley,  clean-looking,  but  closely  built  upon 


156  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

narrow  lanes  ;  the  houses  are  of  stone,  and  have  the  same 
color  as  the  highway.  We  were  set  down,  with  our  Derby- 
shire friend,  at  the  Prince's  Arms,  kept  by  John  Clark,  a 
jolly-looking  man  in  knee-breeches,  who  claimed  our  fellow 
passenger  as  an  old  acquaintance.  "  I  were  at  school  with 
him,"  said  he  ;  "  we  are  both  Peakerels."  John  Clark, 
however,  was  the  more  learned  man  of  the  two,  he  knew 
something  of  Walter  Scott ;  in  the  days  when  he  was  a 
coachman,  he  had  driven  the  coach  that  brought  him  to  the 
Peak,  and  knew  that  the  ruined  castle  in  the  neighborhood 
was  once  the  abode  of  Scott's  Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

We  procured  here  an  odd  vehicle  called  a  car,  with  seats 
on  the  sides  where  the  passengers  sit  facing  each  other,  as 
in  an  omnibus,  to  take  us  to  Edale,  one  of  the  valleys  of 
Derbyshire.  Our  new  acquaintance,  who  was  about  to  pro- 
ceed on  foot  to  on«  of  the  neighboring  villages,  was  per- 
suaded to  take  a  seat  with  us  as  far  as  his  road  was  the 
s.inie  with  ours.  We  climbed  out  of  the  valley  up  the  bare 
green  hills,  and  here  our  driver,  who  was  from  Cheshire, 
and  whose  mode  of  speaking  English  made  him  unintelli- 
gible lo  us,  pointed  to  a  house  on  a  distant  road,  and  made 
an  attempt  to  communicate  something  which  he  appeared 
to  think  interesting.  Our  Derbyshire  friend  translated  him. 

"  The  water,"  said  he,  "  that  fall  on  one  side  of  the  roof 
of  that  'ouse  go  into  the  'Umber,  and  the  water  that  fall  on 
the  other  side  go  into  the  Mersey.  Last  winter  that  'ouse 
wore  covered  owre  wi'  snow,  and  they  made  a  ^archway 


EDALE. HOPEDALE.  157 

to  go  in  and  out.  We  'ad  a  /^eighteen  month's  storm  last 
winter." 

By  an  "eighteen  month's  storm"  we  learned,  on  inquiry, 
that  he  meant  eighteen  weeks  of  continued  cold  weather, 
the  last  winter  having  been  remarkable  for  its  severity. 

Our  kind  interpreter  now  left  us,  and  took  his  way  across 
the  fields,  down  a  path  which  led  through  a  chasm  between 
high  tower-like  rocks,  called  the  "Winnets,  which  etymolo- 
gists say  is  a  corruption  of  Windgates,  a  name  given  to  this 
mountain-pass  from  the  currents  of  air  which  are  always 
blowing  through  it.  Turning  out  of  the  main  road,  we 
began  to  ascend  a  steep  green  declivity.  To  the  right  of  us 
rose  a  peaked  summit,  the  name  of  which  our  driver  told  us 
was  Mam  Tor.  We  left  the  vehicle  and  climbed  to  its  top, 
where  a  wide  and  beautiful  prospect  was  out-spread  before 
us.  To  the  north  lay  Edale,  a  deep  and  almost  circular 
valley,  surrounded  by  a  wavy  outline  of  pastoral  hills,  bare 
of  trees,  but  clothed  in  living  green  to  their  summits,  except 
on  the  northern  side  of  the  valley,  where,  half-way  down, 
they  were  black  with  a  thick  growth  of  heath.  At  the 
bottom  of  the  valley  winded  a  little  stream,  with  a  fringe  of 
trees,  some  of  which  on  account  of  the  lateness  of  the  sea- 
Bon  were  not  yet  in  leaf,  and  near  this  stream  were  scat- 
tered, for  the  most  part,  the  habitations.  In  another 
direction  lay  the  valley  of  Hopedale,  with  its  two  villages, 
Hope  and  Castleton,  its  ancient  castle  of  the  Peverils  seated 
on  a  rock  over  the  entrance  of  the  Peak  Cavern,  and  its  lead 
14 


158  LETTERS    OF    A    TRAVELLER. 

mines  worked  ever  since  the  time  of  the  Saxons,  the  Odin 
mines  as  they  are  called,  the  white  cinders  of  which  lay  in 
heaps  at  their  entrance.  We  left  the  driver  to  take  our 
baggage  to  its  destination,  and  pursued  our  way  across  the 
fields.  Descending  a  little  distance  from  the  summit,  we 
came  upon  what  appeared  to  be  an  ancient  trench,  thickly 
overgrown  with  grass,  which  seemed  to  encircle  the  upper 
part  of  the  hill.  It  was  a  Roman  circumvallation.  The 
grass  was  gemmed  with  wild  pansies,  yellow,  "  freaked 
with  jet,"  and  fragrant,  some  of  which  we  gathered  for  a 
memorial  of  the  spot. 

In  descending  to  the  valley,  we  came  upon  a  little  rivulet 
among  hazels  and  hollies  and  young  oaks,  as  wild  and 
merry  as  a  mountain  brook  of  our  own  country.  Cow- 
slips and  wild  hyacinths  were  in  flower  upon  its  banks,  and 
blue  violets  as  scentless  as  our  own.  We  followed  it  until 
it  fell  into  the  larger  stream,  when  we  crossed  a  bridge  and 
ai'rived  at  a  white  house,  among  trees  just  putting  out  their 
leaves  with  plots  of  flowers  in  the  lawn  before  it.  Here 
we  received  a  cordial  welcome  from  a  hospitable  and  warm- 
hearted Scotchman. 

After  dinner  our  host  took  us  up  the  side  of  the  mountain 
which  forms  the  northern  barrier  of  Edale.  We  walked 
through  a  wretched  little  village,  consisting  of  low  cottages 
built  of  stone,  one  or  two  of  which  were  alehouses  ;  passed 
the  parsonage,  pleasantly  situated  on  the  edge  of  a  little  brook, 
and  then  the  parson  himself,  a  young  man  just  from  Cam- 


THE    LARK.  159 

bridge,  who  was  occupied  in  sketching  one  of  the  picturesque 
points  in  the  scenery  about  his  new  habitation.  A  few 
minutes  active  climbing  brought  us  among  the  heath,  form- 
ming  a  thick  elastic  carpet  under  our  feet,  on  which  we 
were  glad  to  seat  ourselves  for  a  moment's  rest.  We  heard 
the  cuckoo  upon  every  side,  and  when  we  rose  to  pursue  our 
walk  we  frequently  startled  the  moor-fowl,  singly  or  in 
flocks.  The  time  allowed  by  the  game  laws  for  shooting 
them  had  not  yet  arrived,  but  in  the  mean  time  they  had 
been  unmercifully  hunted  by  the  hawks,  for  we  often  found  the 
remains  of  such  as  had  been  slain  by  these  winged  sports- 
men, lying  in  our  path  as  we  ascended.  We  found  on  the 
top  of  the  hill,  a  level  of  several  rods  in  width,  covered  to  a 
considerable  depth  with  peat,  the  produce  of  the  decayed 
roots  of  the  heath,  which  has  sprung  and  perished  for  cen- 
turies. It  was  now  soft  with  the  abundant  rains  which 
had  fallen,  and  seamed  with  deep  muddy  cracks,  over  which 
we  made  our  way  with  difficulty.  At  length  we  came  to 
a  spot  from  which  we  could  look  down  into  another  valley. 
"  That,"  said  our  host,  "  is  the  Woodlands."  We  looked  and 
saw  a  green  hollow  among  the  hills  like  Edale,  but  still 
more  bare  of  trees,  though  like  Edale  it  had  its  little 
stream  at  the  bottom. 

The  next  day  we  crossed  the  Mam  Tor  a  second  time,  on  a 
visit  to  the  Derbyshire  mines.  On  our  way,  I  heard  the 
lark  for  the  first  time.  The  little  bird,  so  frequently  named 
in  English  poetry,  rose  singing  from  the  grass  almost  per- 


160  LETTERS    OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

pendicularly,  until  nearly  lost  to  the  sight  in  the  clouds, 
floated  away,  first  in  one  direction,  then  in  another,  descended 
towards  the  earth,  arose  again,  pouring  forth  a  perpetual, 
uninterrupted  stream  of  melody,  until  at  length,  after  the 
space  of  somewhat  more  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  he 
reached  the  ground,  and  closed  his  flight  and  his  song  to- 
gether. The  caverns  which  contain  the  Derbyshire  spars 
of  various  kinds,  have  been  the  frequent  theme  of  tourists, 
and  it  is  hardly  worth  while  to  describe  them  for  the 
thousandth  time.  Imagine  a  fissure  in  the  limestone  rock, 
descending  obliquely  five  hundred  feet  into  the  bowels  of 
the  earth,  with  a  floor  of  fallen  fragments  of  rock  and 
sand  ;  jagged  walls,  which  seem  as  if  they  would  fit  closely 
into  each  other  if  they  could  be  brought  together,  sheeted, 
in  many  places,  with  a  glittering,  calcareous  deposit,  and 
gradually  approaching  each  other  overhead — imagine  this, 
and  you  will  have  an  idea  of  the  Blue  John  mine,  into 
which  we  descended.  The  fluor-spar  taken  from  this  mine 
is  of  a  rich  blue  color,  and  is  wrought  into  vases  and  cups, 
which  were  extremely  beautiful. 

The  entrance  to  the  Peak  Cavern,  as  it  is  called,  is  very 
grand.  A  black  opening,  of  prodigious  extent,  yawns  in  the 
midst  of  a  precipice  nearly  three  hundred  feet  in  height,  and 
you  proceed  for  several  rods  in  this  vast  portico,  before  the 
cave  begins  to  contract  to  narrower  dimensions.  At  a  little 
distance  from  this  opening,  a  fine  stream  rushes  rapidly  from 
under  the  limestone,  and  flows  through  the  village.  Above, 


THE     CASTLE     OF     THE     PEVERILS.  161 

and  almost  impending  over  the  precipice,  is  the  castle  of  the 
Peverils,  the  walls  of  which,  built  of  a  kind  of  stone  which 
retains  the  chisel  marks  made  eight  hundred  years  since, 
are  almost  entire,  though  the  roof  has  long  ago  fallen  in, 
and  trees  are  growing  in  the  corners.  "  Here  lived  the 
English  noblemen,"  said  our  friend,  "  when  they  were 
robbers — before  they  became  gentlemen."  The  castle  is 
three  stories  in  height,  and  the  space  within  its  thick  and 
stronsr  walls  is  about  twenty-five  feet  square.  These  would 
be  thought  narrow  quarters  by  the  present  nobility,  the  race 
of  gentlemen  who  have  succeeded  to  the  race  of  robbers. 

The  next  day  we  attended  the  parish  church.  The 
young  clergyman  gave  us  a  discourse  on  the  subject  of  the 
Trinity,  and  a  tolerably  clever  one,  though  it  was  only 
sixteen  minutes  long.  The  congregation  were  a  healthy, 
though  not  a  very  intelligent  looking  set  of  men  and 
women.  The  Derbyshire  people  have  a  saying — 

"  Darbysliire  born,  and  Darbyshire  bred, 
Strong  o'  the  yarm  and  weak  o'  the  yead." 

The  latter  line,  translated  into  English,  would  be — 
"  Strong  of  the  arm,  and  weak  of  the  head ;" 

and  I  was  assured  that,  like  most  proverbs,  it  had  a  good 
deal  of  truth  in  it.  The  laboring  people  of  Edale  arid  its 
neighborhood,  so  far  as  I  could  learn,  are  not  remarkable  for 
good  morals,  and  indifferent,  or  worse  than  indifferent,  to 
the  education  of  their  children.  They  are,  however,  more 
14* 


1  G  2  LET  T  K  IIS     OF     A     T  R  A  V  Ii  L  I.  K  R. 

fortunate  in  regard  to  the  wagjs  of  their  labor,  than  in 
many  other  agricultural  districts.  A  manufactory  for  pre- 
paring cotton  thread  for  the  lace-makers,  has  been  estab- 
lished in  Edale,  and  the  women  and  girls  of  the  place,  who 
are  employed  in  it,  are  paid  from  seven  to  eight  shillings  a 
week.  The  farm  laborers  receive  from  twelve  to  thirteen 
shillings  a  week,  which  is  a  third  more  than  is  paid  to  the 
same  class  in  some  other  counties. 

The  people  of  the  Peak,  judging  from  the  psalmody  I 
heard  at  church,  are  not  without  an  ear  for  music.  "  I 
was  at  a  funeral,  not  long  since,"  said  our  host,  "  a  young 
man,  born  deaf  and  dumb,  went  mad  and  cut  his  throat. 
The  people  came  from  far  and  near  to  the  burial.  Hot  ale 
was  handed  about  and  drunk  in  silence,  and  a  candle  stood 
on  the  table,  at  which  the  company  lighted  their  pipes.  The 
only  sound  to  be  heard  was  the  passionate  sobbing  of  the 
father.  At  last  the  funeral  service  commenced,  and  the 
hymn  being  given  out,  they  set  it  to  a  tune  in  the  minor 
key,  and  I  never  heard  any  music  performed  in  a  mannei 
more  pathetic." 

On  Monday  we  left  Edale,  and  a  beautiful  drive  we  had 
along  the  banks  of  the  Derwent,  woody  and  rocky,  and 
wild  enough  in  some  places  to  be  thought  a  river  of  oiu 
own  country.  Of  our  visit  to  Chatsworth,  the  seat  of  the 
Duke  of  Devonshire,  one  of  the  proudest  of  the  modern  En- 
glish nobility,  and  to  Haddon  Hall,  the  finest  specimen  re- 
maining of  the  residences  of  their  ancestors,  I  will  say 


SCENE-PAINTING     ATS  MATLOCK.  163 

nothing,  for  these  have  already  been  described  till  people 
are  tired  of  reading  them.  We  passed  the  night  at  Matlock 
in  sight  of  the  rock  called  the  High  Tor.  In  the  hot 
season  it  swarms  with  cockneys,  and  to  gratify  their  taste, 
the  place,  beautiful  as  it  is  with  precipices  and  woods,  has 
been  spoiled  by  mock  ruins  and  fantastic  names.  There  is 
a  piece  of  scene-painting,  for  example,  placed  conspicuously 
among  the  trees  on  the  hill-side,  representing  an  ancient 
tower,  and  another  representing  an  old  church.  One  place 
of  retreat  is  called  the  Romantic  Rocks,  and  another  the 
Lover's  Walk. 

To-day  we  arrived  at  Derby,  and  hastened  to  see  its 
Arboretum.  This  is  an  inclosure  of  eleven  acres,  given  by 
the  late  Mr.  Josiah  Strutt  to  the  town,  and  beautifully  laid 
out  by  Loudon,  author  of  the  work  on  Rural  Architecture. 
It  is  planted  with  every  kind  of  tree  and  shrub  which  will 
grow  in  the  open  air  of  this  climate,  and  opened  to  the 
public  for  a  perpetual  place  of  resort.  Shall  we  never  see 
an  example  of  the  like  munificence  in  New  York  ? 


164  LETTERS    OF    A     TRAVELLER. 


LETTER    XX. 

WORKS    OF     ART. 

LONDON,  June  18,  1845. 

I  HAVE  now  been  in  London  a  fortnight.  Of  course  you 
will  not  expect  me  to  give  you  what  you  will  find  in  the 
guide-books  and  the  "  Pictures  of  London." 

The  town  is  yet  talking  of  a  statue  of  a  Greek  slave,  by 
our  countryman  Powers,  which  was  to  be  seen  a  few  days 
since  at  a  print-shop  in  Pall  Mall.  I  went  to  look  at  it. 
The  statue  represents  a  Greek  girl  exposed  naked  for  sale  in 
the  slave-market.  Her  hands  are  fettered,  the  drapery  of 
her  nation  lies  at  her  feet,  and  she  is  shrinking  from  the 
public  gaze.  I  looked  at  it  with  surprise  and  delight ;  I 
was  dazzled  with  the  soft  fullness  of  the  outlines,  the  grace 
of  the  attitude,  the  noble,  yet  sad  expression  of  the  counte- 
nance, and  the  exquisite  perfection  of  the  workmanship.  I 
could  not  help  acknowledging  a  certain  literal  truth  in  the 
expression  of  Byron,  concerning  a  beautiful  statue,  that  it 

" fills 

The  air  around  with  beauty." 


EXHIBITION     OF     THE     ROYAL     ACADEMY.         165 

It  has  fixed  the  reputation  of  Powers,  and  made  his  for- 
tune. The  possessor  of  the  statue,  a  Mr.  Grant,  has  refused 
to  dispose  of  it,  except  to  a  public  institution.  The  value 
which  is  set  upon  it,  may  be  inferred  from  this  circum- 
stance, that  one  of  the  richest  noblemen  in  England  told 
the  person  who  had  charge  of  the  statue,  that  if  Mr.  Grant 
would  accept  two  thousand  pounds  sterling  for  it,  he  should 
be  glad  to  send  him  a  check  for  the  amount.  Some  whis- 
pers of  criticism  have  been  uttered,  but  they  appear  to  have 
been  drowned  and  silenced  in  the  general  voice  of  involun- 
tary admiration.  I  hear  that  since  the  exhibition  of  the 
statue,  orders  have  been  sent  to  Powers  from  England,  for 
works  of  sculpture  which  will  keep  him  employed  for  years 
to  come. 

The  exhibition  of  paintings  by  the  Royal  Academy  is 
now  open.  I  see  nothing  in  it  to  astonish  one  who  has 
visited  the  exhibitions  of  our  Academy  of  the  Arts  of  De- 
sign in  New  York,  except  that  some  of  the  worst  pictures 
were  hung  in  the  most  conspicuous  places.  This  is  the 
case  with  four  or  five  pictures  by  Turner — a  great  artist, 
and  a  man  of  genius,  but  who  paints  very  strangely  of  late 
years.  To  my  unlearned  eyes,  they  were  mere  blotches  of 
white  paint,  with  streaks  of  yellow  and  red,  and  without 
any  intelligible  design.  To  use  a  phrase  very  common  in 
England,  they  are  the  most  extraordinary  pictures  I  ever 
saw.  Haydon  also  has  spoiled  several  yards  of  good  can- 
vas wi*h  a  most  hideous  picture  of  Uriel  and  Satan,  and 


166  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

to  this  is  assigned  one  of  the  very  best  places  in  the  collec- 
tion. There  is  more  uniformity  of  style  and  coloring  than 
with  us  ;  more  appearance  of  an  attempt  to  conform  to  a 
certain  general  model,  so  that  of  course  there  are  fewer  un- 
pleasant contrasts  of  manner  :  but  this  is  no  advantage, 
inasmuch  as  it  prevents  the  artist  from  seeking  to  attain  ex- 
cellence in  the  way  for  which  he  is  best  fitted.  The  num- 
ber of  paintings  is  far  greater  than  in  our  exhibitions  ;  but 
the  proportion  of  good  ones  is  really  far  smaller.  There  are 
some  extremely  clever  things  by  Webster,  who  appears  to 
be  a  favorite  with  the  public  ;  some  fine  miniatures  by 
Thorburn,  a  young  Scotch  artist  who  has  suddenly  become 
eminent,  and  several  beautiful  landscapes  by  Stanfield,  an 
artist  of  high  promise.  We  observed  in  the  catalogue,  the 
names  of  three  or  four  of  our  American  artists  ;  but  on  look- 
ing for  their  works,  we  found  them  all  hung  so  high  as  to 
be  out  of  sight,  except  one,  and  that  was  in  what  is  called 
the  condemned  room,  where  only  a  glimmer  of  light  enters, 
and  where  the  hanging  committee  are  in  the  practice  of 
thrusting  any  such  pictures  as  they  can  not  help  exhibiting, 
but  wish  to  keep  in  the  dark. 

My  English  friends  apologize  for  the  wretchedness  of  the 
collection,  its  rows  of  indifferent  portraits  and  its  multitude 
of  feeble  imitations  in  historical  and  landscape  painting,  by 
saying  that  the  more  eminent  artists  are  preparing  them- 
selves to  paint  the  walls  and  ceilings  of  the  new  Houses  of 
Parliament  in  fresco.  The  pinnacles  and  turrets  of  that 


DRAWINGS     IN     W  A  T  t  R  -  C  O  L  O  R  S.  167 

vast  and  magnificent  structure,  built  of  a  cream-colored 
stone,  and  florid  with  Gothic  tracery,  copied  from  the  ancient 
chapel  of  St.  Stephen,  the  greater  part  of  which  was  not 
long  ago  destroyed  hy  fire,  are  rising  from  day  to  day  above 
the  city  roofs.  We  walked  through  its  broad  and  long 
passages  and  looked  into  its  unfinished  halls,  swarming 
with  stone-cutters  and  masons,  and  thought  that  if  half  of 
them  were  to  be  painted  in  fresco,  the  best  artists  of  En- 
gland have  the  work  of  years  before  them. 

With  the  exhibition  of  drawings  in  water-colors,  which  is 
a  separate  affair  from  the  paintings  in  oil,  I  was  much  bet- 
ter pleased.  The  late  improvement  in  this  branch  of  art, 
is,  I  believe,  entirely  due  to  English  artists.  They  have 
given  to  their  drawings  of  this  class  a  richness,  a  force  of 
effect,  a  depth  of  shadow  and  strength  of  light,  arid  a  truth 
of  representation  which  astonishes  those  who  are  accus- 
tomed only  to  the  meagreness  and  tenuity  of  the  old  man- 
ner. I  have  hardly  seen  any  landscapes  which  exceeded, 
in  the  perfectness  of  the  illusion,  one  or  two  which  I  saw  in 
the  collection  I  visited,  and  I  could  hardly  persuade  myself 
that  a  flower-piece  on  which  I  looked,  representing  a  bunch 
of  hollyhocks,  was  not  the  real  thing  after  all,  so  crisp  were 
the  leaves,  so  juicy  the  stalks,  and  with  such  skillful  relief 
was  flower  heaped  upon  flower  and  leaf  upon  leaf. 


LETTERS    OF     A    TRAVELLER. 


LETTER    XXI 

THE     PARKS     OF     LONDON. — THE     POLICF. 

LONDON,  June  24,  1845. 

NOTHING  can  be  more  striking  to  one  who  is  accustomed 
to  the  little  inclosures  called  public  parks  in  our  American 
cities,  than  the  spacious,  open  grounds  of  London.  I  doubt, 
in  fact,  whether  any  person  fully  comprehends  their  extent, 
from  any  of  the  ordinary  descriptions  of  them,  until  he  has 
seen  them  or  tried  to  walk  over  them.  You  begin  at  the 
east  end  of  St.  James's  Park,  and  proceed  along  its  graveled 
walks,  and  its  colonnades  of  old  trees,  among  its  thickets  of 
ornamental  shrubs  carefully  inclosed,  its  grass-plots  main- 
tained in  perpetual  freshness  and  verdure  by  the  moist 
climate  and  the  ever-dropping  skies,  its  artificial  sheets  of 
water  covered  with  aquatic  birds  of  the  most  beautiful 
species,  until  you  begin  almost  to  wonder  whether  tho  park 
has  a  western  extremity.  You  reach  it  at  last,  and  proceed 
between  the  green  fields  of  Constitution  Hill,  when  you 
find  yourself  at  the  corner  of  Hyde  Park,  a  much  more 
spacious  pleasure-ground.  You  proceed  westward  in  Hyde 
Park  until  you^ttrcr  weary,  when  you  find  yourself  on  tho 


BEAUTY    OF     THE     PARKS.  169 

verge  of  Kensington  Gardens,  a  vast  extent  of  ancient  woods 
and  intervening  lawns,  to  which  the  eye  sees  no  limit,  and 
in  whose  walks  it  seerns  as  if  the  whole  population  of 
London  might  lose  itself.  North  of  Hyde  Park,  after  pass- 
ing a  few  streets,  you  reach  the  great  square  of  Regent's 
Park,  where,  as  you  stand  at  one  boundary  the  other  is 
almost  undistinguishable  in  the  dull  London  atmosphere. 
North  of  this  park  rises  Primrose  Hill,  a  bare,  grassy  eminence, 
which  I  hear  has  been  purchased  for  a  public  ground  and  will 
be  planted  with  trees.  All  round  these  immense  inclosures, 
presses  the  densest  population  of  the  civilized  world.  Within, 
such  is  their  extent,  is  a  fresh  and  pure  atmosphere,  and  the 
odors  of  plants  and  flowers,  and  the  twittering  of  innumer- 
able birds  more  musical  than  those  of  our  own  woods, 
which  build  and  rear  their  young  here,  and  the  hum  of 
insects  in  the  sunshine.  Without  are  close  and  crowde 
streets,  swarming  with  foot-passengers,  aad  choked  with 
drays  and  carriages. 

These  parks  have  been  called  the  lungs  of  London,  and 
so  important  are  they  regarded  to  the  public  health  and  the 
happiness  of  the  people,  that  I  believe  a  proposal  to  dispense 
with  some  part  of  their  extent,  and  cover  it  with  streets  and 
houses,  would  be  regarded  in  much  the  same  manner  as  a 
proposal  to  hang  every  tenth  man  in  London.  They  will 
probably  remain  public  grounds  as  long  as  London  has  an 
existence. 

The  population  of  your  city,  increasing  with  such  pro- 
15 


170  LET TEES     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

digious  rapidity ;  your  sultry  summers,  and  the  corrupt 
atmosphere  generated  in  hot  and  crowded  streets,  make  it  a 
cause  of  regret  that  in  laying  out  New  York,  no  preparation 
was  made,  while  it  was  yet  practicable,  for  a  range  of  parks 
and  public  gardens  along  the  central  part  of  the  island  or 
elsewhere,  to  remain  perpetually  for  the  refreshment  and 
recreation  of  the  citizens  during  the  torrid  heats  of  the 
warm  season.  There  are  yet  unoccupied  lands  on  the 
island  which  might,  I  suppose,  be  procured  for  the  purpose, 
and  which,  on  account  of  their  rocky  and  uneven  surface, 
might  be  laid  out  into  surpassingly  beautiful  pleasure- 
grounds  ;  but  while  we  are  discussing  the  subject  the 
advancing  population  of  the  city  is  sweeping  over  them  and 
covering  them  from  our  reach. 

If  we  go  out  of  the  parks  into  the  streets  we  find  the 
causes  of  a  corrupt  atmosphere  much  more  carefully  re- 
moved than  with  us.  The  streets  of  London  are  always 
clean.  Every  day.  early  in  the  morning,  they  are  swept  ; 
and  some  of  them,  I  believe,  at  other  hours  also,  by  a  ma- 
chine drawn  by  one  of  the  powerful  dray-horses  of  this 
country.  Whenever  an  unusually  large  and  fine  horse  of 
this  breed  is  produced  in  the  country,  he  is  sent  to  the 
London  market,  and  remarkable  animals  they  are,  of  a 
height  and  stature  almost  elephantine,  large-limbed,  slow- 
paced,  shaggy-footed,  sweeping  the  ground  with  their 
fetlocks,  each  huge  foot  armed  with  a  shoe  weighing  from 
five  to  six  pounds.  One  of  these  strong  creatures  is 


SECURITY     FROM     BURGLARIES.  171 

harnessed  to  a  street-cleaning  machine,  which  consists 
of  brushes  turning  over  a  cylinder  and  sweeping  the  dust 
of  the  streets  into  a  kind  of  box.  Whether  it  be  wet 
or  dry  dust,  or  mud,  the  work  is  thoroughly  performed ; 
it  is  all  drawn  into  the  receptacle  provided  for  it, 
and  the  huge  horse  stalks  backward  and  forward 
along  the  street  until  it  is  almost  as  clean  as  a  drawing- 
room 

I  called  the  other  day  on  a  friend,  an  American,  who 
told  me  that  he  had  that  morning  spoken  with  his  landlady 
about  her  carelessness  in  leaving  the  shutters  of  her  lower 
rooms  unclosed  during  the  night.  She  answered  that  she 
never  took  the  trouble  to  close  them,  that  so  secure  was  the 
city  from  ordinary  burglaries,  under  the  arrangements  of 
the  new  police,  that  it  was  not  worth  the  trouble.  The 
windows  of  the  parlor  next  to  my  sleeping-room  open  upon 
a  rather  low  balcony  over  the  street  door,  and  they  are  un- 
provided with  any  fastenings,  which  in  New  York  we 
should  think  a  great  piece  of  negligence.  Indeed,  I  am 
told  that  these  night  robberies  are  no  longer  practiced, 
except  when  the  thief  is  assisted  by  an  accessary  in  the 
house.  All  classes  of  the  people  appear  to  be  satisfied  with 
the  new  police.  The  officers  are  men  of  respectable 
appearance  and  respectable  manners.  If  I  lose  my  way,  or 
stand  in  need  of  any  local  information,  I  apply  to  a  person 
in  the  uniform  of  a  police  officer.  They  are  sometimes 
more  stupid  in  regard  lo  these  matters  than  there  is  any  oc- 


172  LETTERS    OF     A     T  R  A  VE  LL  E  it.. 

casiori  for,  but  it  is  one  of  the  duties  of  their  office  to  assist 
strangers  with  local  information. 

Begging  is  repressed  by  the  new  police  regulations,  and 
want  skulks  in  holes  and  corners,  and  prefers  its  petitions 
where  it  can  not  be  overheard  by  men  armed  with  the 
authority  of  the  law.  "  There  is  a  great  deal  of  famine  in 
London,"  said  a  friend  to  me  the  other  day,  "  but  the  police 
regulations  drive  it  out  of  sight."  I  was  going  through  Ox- 
ford-street lately,  when  I  saw  an  elderly  man  of  small 
stature,  poorly  dressed,  with  a  mahogany  complexion,  walk- 
ing slowly  before  me.  As  I  passed  him  he  said  in  my  ear, 
with  a  hollow  voice,  "  I  am  starving  to  death  with  hunger," 
and  these  words  and  that  hollow  voice  sounded  in  my  ear 
all  day. 

Walking  in  Hampstead  Heath  a  day  or  two  since,  with 
an  English  friend,  we  were  accosted  by  two  laborers,  who 
were  sitting  on  a  bank,  arid  who  said  that  they  had  came 
to  that  neighborhood  in  search  of  employment  in  hay- 
making, but  had  not  been  able  to  get  either  work  or  food. 
My  friend  appeared  to  distrust  their  story.  But  in  the 
evening,  as  we  were  walking  home,  we  passed  a  company 
of  some  four  or  five  laborers  in  frocks,  with  bludgeons  in 
their  hands,  who  asked  us  for  something  to  eat.  "  You  see 
how  it  is,  gentlemen,"  said  one  of  them,  "  we  are  hungry  ; 
we  have  corne  for  work,  and  nobody  will  hire  us ;  we  have 
had  nothing  to  eat  all  day."  Their  tone  was  dissatisfied, 
almost  menacing  ;  and  the  Englishman  who  was  with  us, 


INCREASE     OF     POVERTY.  173 

referred  to  it  several  times  afterward,  with  an  expression 
of  anxiety  and  alarm. 

I  hear  it  often  remarked  here,  that  the  difference  of  con- 
dition between  the  poorer  and  the  richer  classes  becomes 
greater  every  day,  and  what  the  end  will  be  the  wisest  pre- 
tend not  to  foresee. 


174  LETTERS     <>K     A     Tl!  A  V  K  L  L  E  It. 


LETTER    XXII. 

EDIN  BURGH. 

EDINBURGH,  July  17,  1845. 

I  HAD  been  often  told,  since  I  arrived  in  England,  that  in 
Edinburgh,  I  should  see  the  finest  city  I  ever  saw.  I  con 
fess  that  I  did  not  feel  quite  sure  of  this,  but  it  required 
scarcely  more  than  a  single  look  to  show  me  that  it  was 
perfectly  true.  It  is  hardly  possible  to  imagine  a  nobler 
site  for  a  town  than  that  of  Edinburgh,  and  it  is  built  as 
nobly.  You  stand  on  the  edge  of  the  deep  gulf  which  sepa- 
rates the  old  and  the  new  town,  and  before  you  on  the 
opposite  bank  rise  the  picturesque  buildings  of  the  ancient 
city — 

"  Piled  deep  and  massy,  close  and  high," 

looking,  in  their  venerable  and  enduring  aspect,  as  if  they 
were  parts  of  the  steep  bank  on  which  they  stand,  an 
original  growth  of  the  rocks  ;  as  if,  when  the  vast  beds  of 
stone  crystallized  from  the  waters,  or  cooled  from  their  fusion 
by  fire,  they  formed  themselves  by  some  freak  of  nature  into 
this  fantastic  resemblance  of  the  habitations  of  men.  To 
the  right  your  eyes  rest  upon  a  crag  crowned  with  a  grand 
old  castle  of  the  middle  ages,  on  which  guards  are  marchin 


: 


MASSIVE     A  RCH  ITECTURE.  175 

to  and  fro  ;  and  near  you  to  the  left,  rises  the  rocky  summit 
of  Carlton  Hill,  with  its  monuments  of  the  great  men  of 
Scotland.  Behind  you  stretch  the  broad  streets  of  the  new 
town,  overlooked  by  massive  structures,  built  of  the  stone  of 
the  Edinburgh  quarries,  which  have  the  look  of  palaces. 

"  Streets  of  palaces  and  walks  of  slate," 

form  the  new  town.  Not  a  house  of  brick  or  wood  exists 
in  Edinburgh ;  all  are  constructed  of  the  excellent  and 
lasting  stone  which  the  earth  supplies  almost  close  to  their 
foundations.  High  and  solid  bridges  of  this  material,  with 
broad  arches,  connect  the  old  town  with  the  new,  and  cross 
the  deep  ravine  of  the  Cowgate  in  the  old  town,  at  the  bot- 
tom of  which  you  see  a  street  between  prodigiously  high 
buildings,  swarming  with  the  poorer  population  of  Edinburgh. 
From  almost  any  of  the  eminences  of  the  town  you  see 
spread  below  you  its  magnificent  bay,  the  Frith  of  Forth, 
with  its  rocky  islands ;  and  close  to  the  old  town  rise  the 
lofty  summits  of  Arthur's  Seat  and  Salisbury  Crag,  a  soli- 
tary, silent,  mountainous  district,  without  habitations  or 
inclosures,  grazed  by  flocks  of  sheep.  To  the  west  flows 
Leith-water  in  its  deep  valley,  spanned  by  a  noble  bridge, 
and  the  winds  of  this  chilly  climate  that  strike  the  stately 
buildings  of  the  new  town,  along  the  clifls  that  border  this 
glen,  come  from  the  very  clouds.  Beyond  the  Frith  lie  the 
hills  of  Fifeshire  ;  a  glimpse  of  the  blue  Grampian  ridges  is 
seen  where  the  Frith  contracts  in  the  northwest  to  a  nar- 


176  LETTERS    OF    A     TRAVELLER. 

row  channel,  and  to  the  southwest  lie  the  Pentland  hills, 
whose  springs  supply  Edinburgh  with  water.  All  around 
you  are  places  the  names  of  which  are  familiar  names  of 
history,  poetry,  and  romance. 

From  this  magnificence  of  nature  and  art,  the  transition 
was  painful  to  what  I  saw  of  the  poorer  population.  On 
Saturday  evening  I  found  myself  at  the  market,  which  is 
then  held  in  High-street  and  the  Netherbow,  just  as  you 
enter  the  Canongate,  and  where  the  old  wooden  effigy  of 
John  Knox,  with  staring  tlack  eyes,  freshly  painted  every 
year,  stands  in  its  pulpit,  and  still  seems  preaching  to  the 
crowd.  Hither  a  throng  of  sickly-looking,  dirty  people, 
bringing  with  them  their  unhealthy  children,  had  crawled 
from  the  narrow  wynds  or  alleys  on  each  side  of  the  street. 
We  entered  several  of  these  wynds,  and  passed  down  one 
of  them,  between  houses  of  vast  height,  story  piled  upon 
story,  till  we  came  to  the  deep  hollow  of  the  Cowgate.  Chil- 
dren were  swarming  in  the  way,  all  of  them,  bred  in  that 
close  and  impure  atmosphere,  of  a  sickly  appearance,  and 
the  aspect  of  premature  age  in  some  of  them,  which  were 
carried  in  arms,  was  absolutely  frightful.  "  Here  is  misery," 
said  a  Scotch  gentleman,  who  was  my  conductor.  I  asked 
him  how  large  a  proportion  of  the  people  of  Ediubugh  be- 
longed to  that  wretched  and  squalid  class  which  I  saw 
before  me.  "  More  than  half,"  was  his  reply.  I  will  not 
vouch  for  the  accuracy  of  his  statistics.  Of  course  his  esti- 
mate was  but  a  conjecture. 


NIGHT     ASYLUMS.  177 

In  the  midst  of  this  population  is  a  House  of  Refuge  for 
the  Destitute,  established  by  charitable  individuals  for  the 
relief  of  those  who  may  be  found  in  a  state  of  absolute 
destitution  of  the  necessaries  of  life.  Here  they  are  em- 
ployed in  menial  services,  lodged  and  fed  until  they  can  be 
sent  to  their  friends,  or  employment  found  for  them.  We 
went  over  the  building,  a  spacious  structure,  in  the  Canon- 
gate,  of  the  plainest  Puritan  architecture,  with  wide  low 
rooms,  which,  at  the  time  of  the  union  of  Scotland  with 
England,  served  as  the  mansion  of  the  Duke  of  Q,ueensbury. 
The  accommodations  of  course  are  of  the  humblest  kind. 
We  were  shown  into  the  sewing-room,  were  we  saw  several 
healthy-looking  young  women  at  work,  some  of  them  bare- 
footed. Such  of  the  inmates  as  can  afford  it,  pay  for  their 
board  from  three  and  sixpence  to  five  shillings  a  week, 
besides  their  labor. 

In  this  part  of  the  city  also  are  the  Night  Asylums  for 
the  Houseless.  Here,  those  who  find  themselves  without  a 
shelter  for  the  night,  are  received  into  an  antechamber, 
provided  with  benches,  where  they  first  get  a  bowl  of  soup, 
and  are  then  introduced  into  a  bathing-room,  where  they 
are  stripped  and  scoured.  They  are  next  furnished  with 
clean  garments  and  accommodated  with  a  lodging  on  an 
inclined  plane  of  planks,  a  little  raised  from  the  floor,  and 
divided  into  proper  compartments  by  strips  of  board.  Their 
own  clothes  are,  in  the  mean  time,  washed,  and  returned  to 
them  when  they  leave  the  place. 


178          LETTERS,  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 

It  was  a  very  different  spectacle  from  the  crowd  in  the 
Saturday  evening  market,  that  met  my  eyes  the  next 
morning  in  the  clean  and  beautiful  streets  of  the  new  town ; 
the  throng  of  well-dressed  church-goers  passing  each  other 
in  all  directions.  The  women,  it  appeared  to  rne,  were 
rather  gaily  dressed,  and  a  large  number  of  them  prettier 
than  I  had  seen  in  some  of  the  more  southern  cities. 

I  attended  worship  in  one  of  the  Free  Churches,  as  they 
are  called,  in  which  Dr.  Candlish  officiates.  In  the  course 
of  his  sermon,  he  read  long  portions  of  an  address  from  the 
General  Assembly  of  the  Free  Church  of  Scotland,  appoint- 
ing the  following  Thursday  as  a  day  of  fasting  and  prayer, 
on  account  of  the  peculiar  circumstances  of  the  time,  and 
more  especially  the  dangers  flowing  from  the  influence  of 
popery,  alluding  to  the  grant  of  money  lately  made  by  par- 
liament to  the  Roman  Catholic  College  at  Maynooth.  The 
address  proposed  no  definite  opposition,  but  protested  against 
the  measure  in  general,  and,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  rather 
vague  tenns.  In  the  course  of  the  address  the  title  of  Na- 
tional Church  was  claimed  for  the  Free  Church,  notwith- 
standing its  separation  from  the  government,  and  the  era 
of  that  separation  was  referred  to  in  phrases  similar  to  those 
in  which  we  speak  of  our  own  declaration  of  national  inde- 
pendence. There  were  one  or  two  allusions  to  the  persecu- 
tions which  the  Free  Church  had  suffered,  and  something 
was  said  about  her  children  being  hunted  like  partridges 
upon  the  mountains  ;  but  it  is  clear  that  if  her  ministers 


THE    FREE     CHURCH.  1/9 

have  been  hunted,  they  have  been  hunted  into  fine  churches  ; 
and  if  persecuted,  they  have  been  persecuted  into  comfort- 
able livings.  This  Free  Church,  as  far  as  I  can  learn,  is 
extremely  prosperous. 

Dr.  Candlish  is  a  fervid  preacher,  and  his  church  was 
crowded.  In  the  afternoon  I  attended  at  one  of  the  churches 
of  the  established  or  endowed  Presbyterian  Church,  where 
a  quiet  kind  of  a  preacher  held  forth,  and  the  congregation 
was  thin. 

This  Maynooth  grant  has  occasioned  great  dissatisfaction 
in  England  and  Scotland.  If  the  question  had  been  left  to  be 
decided  by  the  public  opinion  of  these  parts  of  the  kingdom, 
the  grant  would  never  have  been  made.  An  immense  ma- 
jority, of  all  classes  and  almost  all  denominations,  disap- 
prove of  it.  A  dissenting  clergyman  of  one  of  the  evangelical 
persuasions,  as  they  are  called,  said  to  me — "  The  dissenters 
claim  nothing  from  the  government ;  they  hold  that  it  is 
not  the  business  of  the  state  to  interfere  in  religious  matters, 
and  they  object  to  bestowing  the  public  money  upon  the 
seminaries  of  any  religious  denomination."  In  a  conversa- 
tion which  I  had  with  an  eminent  man  of  letters,  and  a 
warm  friend  of  the  English  Church,  he  said  :  "  The  govern- 
ment is  giving  offense  to  many  who  have  hitherto  been  its 
firmest  supporters.  There  was  no  necessity  for  the  May- 
nooth grant  ;  the  Catholics  would  have  been  as  well 
satisfied  without  it  as  they  are  with  it ;  for  you  see  they  are 
already  clamoring  for  the  right  to  appoint,  through  their 


180  LETTERS    OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

Bishops  the  professors  in  the  new  Irish  colleges.  The  Cath- 
olics were  already  establishing  their  schools,  and  building 
their  churches  with  their  own  means  :  and  this  act  of 
applying  the  money  of  the  nation  to  the  education  of  their 
priests  is  a  gratuitous  offense  offered  by  the  government  to 
its  best  friends."  In  a  sermon  which  I  heard  from  the 
Dean  of  York,  in  the  magnificent  old  minster  of  that  city, 
he  commended  the  liberality  of  the  motives  which  had 
induced  the  government  to  make  the  grant,  bat  spoke  of 
the  measure  as  one  which  the  friends  of  the  English  Church 
viewed  with  apprehension  and  anxiety. 

"  They  may  dismiss  their  fears,"  said  a  shrewd  friend  of 
mine,  with  whom  I  was  discussing  the  subject.  "  Endow- 
ments are  a  cause  of  lukewarmness  and  weakness.  Our 
Presbyterian  friends  here,  instead  of  protesting  so  vehemently 
against  what  Sir  Robert  Peel  has  done,  should  thank  him 
for  endowing  the  Catholic  Church,  for  in  doing  it  he  has  de- 
prived it  of  some  part  of  its  hold  upon  the  minds  of  men." 

There  is  much  truth,  doubtless,  in  this  remark.  The 
support  of  religion  to  be  effectual  should  depend  upon 
individual  zeal.  The  history  of  the  endowed  chapels  of 
dissenting  denominations  in  England  is  a  curious  example 
of  this.  Congregations  have  fallen  away  and  come  to 
nothing,  and  it  is  a  general  remark  that  nothing  is  so  fatal 
to  a  sect  as  a  liberal  endowment,  which  provides  for  the 
celebration  of  public  worship  without  individual  contribu- 
tions. 


NEW  HAVEN     FISHWIVES.  181 


LETTER    XXIII. 

THE     SCOTTISH     LAKES. 

GLASGOW,  July  19,  1845. 

I  MUST  not  leave  Scotland  without  writing  you  another 
letter. 

On  the  17th  of  this  month  I  embarked  at  Newhaven,  in 
the  environs  of  Edinburgh,  on  board  the  little  steamer 
Prince  Albert,  for  Stirling.  On  our  way  we  saw  several 
samples  of  the  Newhaven  fishwives,  a  peculiar  race,  distin- 
guished by  a  costume  of  their  own  ;  fresh-colored  women, 
who  walk  the  streets  of  Edinburgh  with  a  large  wicker- 
basket  on  their  shoulders,  a  short  blue  cloak  of  coarse  cloth 
under  the  basket,  short  blue  petticoats,  thick  blue  stockings, 
and  a  white  cap.  I  was  told  that  they  were  the  descendants 
of  a  little  Flemish  colony,  which  long  ago  settled  at  New- 
haven,  and  that  they  are  celebrated  for  the  readiness  and 
and  point  of  their  jokes,  which,  like  those  of  their  sisters  of 
Billingsgate,  are  not  always  of  the  most  delicate  kind. 
Several  of  these  have  been  related  to  me,  but  on  running 
them  over  in  my  mind,  I  find,  to  my  dismay,  that  none  of 
them  will  look  well  on  paper.  The  wit  of  the  Newhaven 
fishwives  seems  to  me,  however,  like  that  of  our  western 
16 


182  LETTERS    OF    A     TRAVELLER. 

boatmen,    to  consist  mainly  in   the   ready   application    of 
quaint  sayings  already  current  among  themselves. 

It  was  a  wet  day,  with  occasional  showers,  and  some- 
times a  sprinkling  of  Scotch  mist.  I  tried  the  cabin,  but 
the  air  was  too  close.  The  steamboats  in  this  country  have 
but  one  deck,  and  that  deck  has  no  shelter,  so  I  was  content 
to  stand  in  the  rain  for  the  sake  of  the  air  and  scenery. 
After  passing  an  island  or  two,  the  Frith,  which  forms  the 
bay  of  Edinburgh,  contracts  into  the  river  Forth.  We 
swept  by  country  seats,  one  of  which  was  pointed  out  as  the 
residence  of  the  late  Dugald  Stewart,  and  another  that  of 
the  Earl  of  Elgin,  the  plunderer  of  the  Parthenon  ;  and 
castles,  towers,  and  churches,  some  of  them  in  ruins  ever 
since  the  time  of  John  Knox,  and  hills  half  seen  in  the  fog, 
until  we  came  opposite  to  the  Ochil  mountains,  whose 
grand  rocky  buttresses  advanced  from  the  haze  almost  to 
the  river.  Here,  in  the  windings  of  the  Forth,  our  steamei 
went  many  times  backward  and  forward,  first  towards  the 
mountains  and  then  towards  the  level  country  to  the  south, 
in  almost  parallel  courses,  like  the  track  of  a  ploughman  in 
a  field.  At  length  we  passed  a  ruined  tower  and  some 
fragments  of  massy  wall  which  once  formed  a  part  of 
C  ambus  Kenneth  Abbey,  seated  on  the  rich  lands  of  the 
Forth,  for  the  monks,  in  Great  Britain  at  least,  seem  always 
to  have  chosen  for  the  site  of  their  monasteries,  the  banks  of 
a  stream  which  would  supply  them  with  trout  and  salmon 
for  Fridays.  We  were  now  in  the  presence  of  the  rocky 


STIR  LING     CASTLE.  183 

hills  of  Stirling,  with  the  town  on  its  declivity,  and  the 
ancient  castle,  the  residence  of  the  former  kings  of  Scotland, 
on  its  summit. 

We  went  up  through  the  little  town  to  the  castle,  which 
is  still  kept  in  perfect  order,  and  the  ramparts  of  which 
frown  as  grimly  over  the  surrounding  country  as  they  did 
centuries  ago.  No  troops  however  are  now  stationed  here ; 
a  few  old  gunners  alone  remain,  and  Major  somebody,  1 
forget  his  name,  takes  his  dinners  in  the  hanqueting-room 
and  sleeps  in  the  bed-chamber  of  the  Stuarts.  I  wish  I 
could  communicate  the  impression  which  this  castle  and  the 
surrounding  region  made  upon  me,  with  its  vestiges  of 
power  and  magnificence,  and  its  present  silence  and  deser- 
tion. The  passages  to  the  dungeons  where  pined  the 
victims  of  state,  in  the  very  building  where  the  court  held 
its  revels,  lie  open,  and  the  chapel  in  which  princes 
and  princesses  were  christened,  and  worshiped,  and  were 
crowned  and  wed,  is  turned  into  an  armory.  From  its 
windows  we  were  shown,  within  the  inclosure  of  the  castle, 
a  green  knoll,  grazed  by  cattle,  where  the  disloyal  nobles 
of  Scotland  were  beheaded.  Close  to  the  castle  is  a  green 
field,  intersected  with  paths,  which  we  were  told  was 
the  tilting-ground,  or  place  of  tournaments,  and  beside  it 
rises  a  rock,  where  the  ladies  of  the  court  sat  to  witness  the 
combats,  and  which  is  still  called  the  Ladies'  Rock.  At 
the  foot  of  the  hill,  to  the  right  of  the  castle,  stretches 
what  was  once  the  royal  park  ;  it  is  shorn  of  its  trees,  part 


184  LETTERS    OF    A     TRAVELLER. 

is  converted  into  a  race-course,  part  into  a  pasture  for  cows, 
and  the  old  wall  which  marked  its  limits  is  fallen  down. 
Near  it  you  see  a  cluster  of  grassy  embankments  of  a  curious 
form,  circles  and  octagons  and  parallelograms,  which  hear 
the  name  of  King  James's  Knot,  and  once  formed  a  part  of 
the  royal-gardens,  where  the  sovereign  used  to  divert  himself 
with  his  courtiers.  The  cows  now  have  the  spot  to  them- 
selves, and  have  made  their  own  paths,  and  alleys  all  over 
it.  "  Yonder,  to  the  southwest  of  the  castle,"  said  a  senti- 
nel who  stood  at  the  gate,  "  you  see  where  a  large  field  has 
been  lately  ploughed,  and  beyond  it  another,  which  looks 
very  green.  That  green  field  is  the  spot  where  the  battle  of 
Bannockburn  was  fought,  and  the  armies  of  England  were 
defeated  by  Bruce."  I  looked,  and  so  fresh  and  bright  was 
the  verdure,  that  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  the  earth  was  still 
fertilized  with  the  blood  of  those  who  fell  in  that  desperate 
struggle  for  the  crown  of  Scotland.  Not  far  from  this,  the 
spot  was  shown  us  where  Wallace  was  defeated  at  the 
battle  of  Falkirk.  This  region  is  now  the  scene  of  another 
and  an  unbloody  warfare  ;  the  warfare  between  the  Free 
Church  and  the  Government  Church.  Close  to  the  church 
of  the  establishment,  at  the  foot  of  the  rock  of  Stirling,  the 
soldiers  of  the  Free  Church  have  erected  their  place  of 
worship,  and  the  sound  of  hammers  from  the  unfinished  in- 
terior could  be  heard  almost  up  to  the  castle. 

We  took  places  the  same  day  in  the  coach  for  Callander, 
in  the  Highlands.     In  a  short  time  we  came  into  a  country 


CALLANDER.  185 

of  hillocks  and  pastures  brown  and  barren,  half  covered 
with  ferns,  the  breckan  of  the  Scotch,  where  the  broom 
flowered  gaudily  by  the  road-side,  and  harebells  now  in 
bloom,  in  little  companies,  were  swinging,  heavy  with  the 
rain,  on  their  slender  stems. 

Crossing  the  Teith  AVC  found  ourselves  in  iJoune,  a  High- 
land village,  just  before  entering  which  we  passed  a  throng 
of  strapping  lasses,  who  had  just  finished  their  daily  task  at 
a  manufactory  on  the  Teith,  and  were  returning  to  their 
homes.  Between  Dourie  and  Callander  we  passed  the 
woods  of  Cambus-More,  full  of  broad  beeches,  which  delight 
in  the  tenacious  mountain  soil  of  this  district.  This  was 
the  seat  of  a  friend  of  the  Scott  family,  arid  here  Sir  Walter 
in  his  youth  passed  several  summers,  and  became  familiar 
with  the  scenes  which  he  has  so  well  described  in  his  Lady 
of  the  Lake.  At  Callander  we  halted  for  the  night  among 
a  crowd  of  tourists,  Scotch,  English,  American,  and  German, 
more  numerous  than  the  inn  at  which  we  stopped  could 
hold.  I  went  out  into  the  street  to  get  a  look  at  the  place, 
but  a  genuine  Scotch  mist  covering  me  with  water  soon 
compelled  me  to  return.  I  heard  the  people,  a  well-limbed 
brawny  race  of  men,  with  red  hair  and  beards,  talking  to 
each  other  in  Gaelic,  and  saw  through  the  fogs  only  a 
glimpse  of  the  sides  of  the  mountains  and  crags  which 
surrounded  the  village. 

The  next  morning  was  uncommonly  bright  and  clear,  and 
we  set  out  early  for  the  Trosachs.  "We  now  saw  that  the 


186  LETTERS     OF     A     T  R  A  V  !•:  I,  LK  R  . 

village  of  Callander  lay  under  a  dark  crag,  on  the  banks  of 
the  Teith,  winding  pleasantly  amoiig  its  alders,  and  over- 
looked by  the  grand  summit  of  B^nledi,  which  rises  to  the 
height  of  three  thousand  feet.  A  short  time  brought  us  to 
the  stream 

"  Which,  daughter  of  three  mighty  lakes, 
From  Vemiachar  in  silver  breaks," 

and  we  skirted  the  lake  for  nearly  its  whole  length.  Loch 
Vennachar  lies  between  hills  of  comparatively  gentle  de- 
clivity, pastured  by  flocks,  and  tufted  with  patches  of  the 
prickly  gorse  and  coarse  ferns.  On  its  north  bank  lies 
Lanrick  Mead,  a  little  grassy  level  where  Scott  makes  the 
tribe  of  Clan  Alpine  assemble  at  the  command  of  Roderick 
Dhu.  At  a  little  distance  from  Vennachar  lies  Loch 
Achray,  which  we  reached  by  a  road  winding  among 
shrubs  aud  low  trees,  birches,  and  wild  roses  in  blossom, 
with  which  the  air  was  fragrant.  Crossing  a  little  stone 
bridge,  which  our  driver  told  us  was  the  Bridge  of  Turk, 
we  were  on  the  edge  of  Loch  Achray,  a  little  sheet  of 
water  surrounded  by  wild  rocky  hills,  with  here  and  there 
an  interval  of  level  grassy  margin,  or  a  grove  beside  the 
water.  Turning  from  Loch  Achray  we  reached  an  inn 
with  a  (raelic  name,  which  I  have  forgotten  how  to  spell, 
aud  which  if  I  were  to  spell  it,  you  could  not  pronounce. 
This  was  on  the  edge  of  the  Trosachs,  and  here  we  break- 
fasted. 


LOCH     KATRINE.  187 

It  is  the  fashion,  I  believe,  for  all  tourists  to  pass  through 
the  Trosachs  on  foot.  The  mob  of  travellers,  with  whom  I 
found  myself  on  the  occasion — there  were  some  twenty  of 
them — did  so,  to  a  man ;  even  the  ladies,  who  made  about 
a  third  of  the  number,  walked.  The  distance  to  Loch 
Katrine  is  about  a  mile  and  a  half,  between  lofty  moun- 
tains, along  a  glen  filled  with  masses  of  rock,  which  seem 
to  have  been  shaken  by  some  convulsion  of  nature  from  the 
high  steeps  on  either  side,  and  in  whose  shelves  and 
crevices  time  had  planted  a  thick  wood  of  the  birch  and 
ash. 

But  I  will  not  describe  the  Trosachs  after  Walter  Scott. 
Read  what  he  says  of  them  in  the  first  canto  of  his  poem. 
Loch  Katrine,  when  we  reached  it,  was  crisped  into  little 
waves,  by  a  fresh  wind  from  the  northwest,  and  a  boat, 
with  four  brawny  Highlanders,  was  waiting  to  convey  us 
to  the  head  of  the  lake.  We  launched  upon  the  dark  deep 
water,  between  craggy  and  shrubby  steeps,  the  summits 
of  which  rose  on  every  side  of  us  ;  and  one  of  the  rowers,  an 
intelligent-looking  man,  took  upon  himself  the  task  of  point- 
ing out  to  us  the  places  mentioned  by  the  poet.  "  There," 
said  he,  as  we  receded  from  the  shore,  "  is  the  spot  in  the 
Trosachs  where  Fitz  James  lost  his  gallant  gray."  He 
then  repeated,  in  a  sort  of  recitation,  dwelling  strongly  on 
the  rhyme,  the  lines  in  the  Lady  of  the  Lake  which  relate 
that  incident.  "  Yonder  is  the  island  where  Douglass 
concealed  his  daughter.  Under  that  broad  oak,  whose 


188  LETTERS    OF     A    TRAVELLER. 

boughs  almost  dip  into  the  water,  was  the  place  where 
her  skiff  was  moored.  On  that  rock,  covered  with  heath, 
Fitz  James  stood  and  wound  his  bugle.  Near  it,  but  out 
of  sight,  is  the  silver  strand  where  the  skiff  received  him  on 
board." 

Further  on,  he  pointed  out,  on  the  south  side  of  the  lake, 
half  way  up  among  the  rocks  of  the  mountain,  the  place  of 
the  Goblin  Cave,  and  still  beyond  it 


;  The  wild  pass,  where  birches  wave, 
Of  Beal-a-nam-bo." 


On  the  north  shore,  the  hills  had  a  gentler  slope,  and  on 
their  skirts,  which  spread  into  something  like  a  meadow,  we 
saw  a  solitary  dwelling.  "  In  that,"  said  he,  "  Rob  Roy  was 
born."  In  about  two  hours,  our  strong-armed  rowers  had 
brought  us  to  the  head  of  the  lake.  Before  we  reached  it, 
we  saw  the  dark  crest  of  Ben  Lomond,  loftier  than  any  of 
the  mountains  around  us,  peering  over  the  hills  which 
formed  the  southern  rampart  of  Loch  Katrine.  We  landed, 
and  proceeded — the  men  on  foot  and  the  women  on  ponies 
— through  a  wild  craggy  valley,  overgrown  with  low  shrubs, 
to  Inversnaid,  on  Loch  Lomond,  where  a  stream  freshly 
swollen  by  rains  tumbled  down  a  pretty  cascade  into  the 
lake.  As  we  descended  the  steep  bank,  we  saw  a  man  and 
woman  sitting  on  the  grass  weaving  baskets ;  the  woman, 
as  we  passed,  stopped  her  work  to  beg ;  and  the  children, 


LOCH     LOMOND.  189 

chubby  and  ruddy,  came  running  after  us  with  "  Please  give 
me  a  penny  to  buy  a  scone." 

At  Iversnaid  we  embarked  in  a  steamboat  which  took  us 
to  the  northern  extremity  of  the  lake,  where  it  narrows  into 
a  channel  like  a  river.  Here  we  stopped  to  wait  the  arrival 
of  a  coach,  and,  in  the  mean  time,  the  passengers  had  an 
hour  to  wander  in  the  grassy  valley  of  Glenfalloch,  closed 
in  by  high  mountains.  I  heard  the  roar  of  mountain-streams, 
and  passing  northward,  found  myself  in  sight  of  two  tor- 
rents, one  from  the  east,  and  the  other  from  the  west  side 
of  the  valley,  throwing  themselves,  foaming  and  white,  from 
precipice  to  precipice,  till  their  waters,  which  were  gathered 
in  the  summit  of  the  mountains,  reached  the  meadows,  and 
stole  through  the  grass  to  mingle  with  those  of  the  lake. 

The  coach  at  length  arrived,  and  we  were  again  taken 
on  board  the  steamer,  and  conveyed  the  whole  length  of 
Loch  Lomond  to  its  southern  extremity.  We  passed  island 
after  island,  one  of  which  showed  among  its  thick  trees  the 
remains  of  a  fortress,  erected  in  the  days  of  feudal  warfare 
and  robbery,  and  another  was  filled  with  deer.  Towards 
the  southern  end  of  the  lake,  the  towering  mountains,  peak 
beyond  peak,  which  overlook  the  lake,  subside  into  hills,  be- 
tween which  the  stream  called  Leven-water  flows  out 
through  a  rich  and  fertile  valley. 

Coaches  were  waiting  at  Balloch,  where  we  landed,  to 
take  us  to  Dumbarton.  Near  the  lake  we  passed  a  mag- 
nificent park,  in  the  midst  of  which  stood  a  castle,  a  verita- 


190  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

ble  castle,  a  spacious  massive  building  of  stone,  with  a  tower 
and  battlements,  on  which  a  flag  was  flying.  "  It  belongs 
to  a  dry-goods  merchant  in  Glasgow,"  said  the  captain  of 
the  steamboat,  who  was  in  the  coach  with  us ;  "  and  the 
flag  is  put  up  by  his  boys.  The  merchants  are  getting  finer 
seats  than  the  nobility."  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  I  have  for- 
gotten both  the  name  of  the  merchant  and  that  of  his  castle. 
He  was,  as  I  was  told,  a  liberal,  as  well  as  an  opulent  man  ; 
had  built  a  school-house  in  the  neighborhood,  and  being  of 
the  Free  Church  party,  was  then  engaged  in  building  a 
church. 

Near  Renton,  on  the  banks  of  the  Leven,  I  saw  a  little 
neighborhood,  embosomed  in  old  trees.  "  There,"  said  our 
captain,  "  Smollet  was  bom."  A  column  has  been  erected 
to  his  memory  in  the  town  of  Renton,  which  we  saw  as  we 
passed.  The  forked  rock,  on  which  stands  Dumbarton 
Castle,  was  now  in  sight  overlooking  the  Clyde ;  we  were 
whirled  into  the  town,  and  in  a  few  minutes  were  on  board 
a  steamer  which,  as  evening  set  in,  landed  us  at  Glasgow. 

I  must  reserve  what  I  have  to  tell  of  Glasgow  and 
Ayrshire  for  yet  another  letter. 


GLASGOW     FA  HI.  191 


LETTER    XXIV. 

G  L  A  S  G  O  W. — A  T  R. — A  L  L  0  W  A  T. 

DUBLIN,  July  24,  1845. 

I  PROMISED  another  letter  concerning  Scotland,  but  I  had 
not  time  to  write  it  until  the  Irish  Channel  lay  between  me 
and  the  Scottish  coast. 

When  we  reached  Glasgow  on  the  18th  of  July,  the 
streets  were  swarming  with  people.  I  inquired  the  occa- 
sion, and  was  told  that  this  was  the  annual  fair.  The 
artizans  were  all  out  with  their  families,  and  great  numbers 
of  country  people  were  sauntei'ing  about.  This  fair  was 
once,  what  its  name  imports,  an  annual  market  for  the  sale 
of  merchandise  ;  but  it  is  now  a  mere  holiday  in  which  the 
principal  sales,  as  it  appeared  to  me,  were  of  gingerbread 
and  whisky.  I  strolled  the  next  morning  to  the  Green,  a 
spacious  open  ground  that  stretches  along  the  Clyde.  One 
part  of  it  was  occupied  with  the  booths  and  temporary 
theatres  and  wagons  of  showmen,  around  and  among 
which  a  vast  throng  was  assembled,  who  seemed  to  delight 
in  being  deafened  with  the  cries  of  the  showmen  and  the 
music  of  their  instruments.  In  one  place  a  band  was 
playing,  in  another  a  gong  was  thundering,  and  from  one  of 


102  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

the  balconies  a  fellow  in  regal  robes  and  a  pas:..-! 
crown,  surrounded  by  several  persons  of  both  sexes  hi 
tawdry  stage-dresses,  who  seemed  to  have  just  got  out  of 
bed  and  were  yawning  and  rubbing  their  eyes,  was  vocifer- 
ating to  the  crowd  in  praise  of  the  entertainment  which 
was  shortly  to  be  ofiered  them,  while  not  far  off  the  stentor 
of  a  rival  company,  under  a  flag  which  announced  a  new 
pantomime  for  a  penny,  was  declaiming  with  equal  vehe- 
mence, I  made  my  way  with  difficulty  through  the  crowd 
to  the  ancient  street  called  the  Salt  Market,  in  which  Scott 
places  the  habitation  of  Baillie  Jarvie.  It  was  obstructed 
with  little  stalls,  where  toys  and  other  inconsiderable  arti- 
cles were  sold.  Here  at  the  corner  of  one  of  the  streets 
stands  the  old  tower  of  the  Tolbooth  where  Rob  Roy  was 
confined,  a  solid  piece  of  ancient  architecture.  The  main 
building  has  been  removed  and  a  modem  house  supplies  its 
place ;  the  tower  has  been  pierced  below  for  a  thoroughfare, 
and  its  clock  still  reports  the  time  of  day  to  the  people  of 
Glasgow.  The  crowd  through  which  I  passed  had  that 
squalid  appearance  which  marks  extreme  poverty  and 
uncertain  means  of  subsistence,  and  I  was  able  to  form 
some  idea  of  the  prodigious  number  of  this  class  in  a 
populous  city  of  Great  Britain  like  Glasgow.  For  populous 
she  is,  and  prosperous  as  a  city,  increasing  with  a  rapidity 
almost  equal  to  that  of  New  York,  and  already  she  numbers, 
it  is  estimated,  three  hundred  thousand  inhabitants.  Of 


STATUES  IN  THE  SQUARES.          193 

these  it  is  said  that  full  one-third  are  Irish  by  hirth  or  born 
of  Irish  parents. 

The  next  day,  which  was  Sunday,  before  going  to  church, 
I  walked  towards  the  west  part  of  the  city  ;  where  the 
streets  are  broad  and  the  houses  extremely  well-built,  of  the 
same  noble  material  as  the  new  town  of  Edinburgh  ;  and 
many  of  the  dwellings  have  fine  gardens.  Their  sites  in 
many  places  overlook  the  pleasant  valley  of  the  Clyde,  and 
I  could  not  help  acknowledging  that  Glasgow  was  not 
without  claim  to  the  epithet  of  beautiful,  which  I  should 
have  denied  her  if  I  had  formed  my  judgment  from  the 
commercial  streets  only.  The  people  of  Glasgow  also  have 
shown  their  good  sense  in  erecting  the  statues  which  adorn 
their  public  squares,  only  to  men  who  have  some  just  claim 
to  distinction.  Here  are  no  statues,  for  example,  of  the 
profligate  Charles  II.,  or  the  worthless  Duke  of  York,  or 
the  silly  Duke  of  Cambridge,  as  you  will  see  in  other 
cities  ;  but  here  the  marble  effigy  of  Walter  Scott  looks 
from  a  lofty  column  in  the  principal  square,  and  not  far 
from  it  is  that  of  the  inventor  Watt ;  while  the  statues 
erected  to  military  men  are  to  those  who,  like  Wellington, 
have  acquired  a  just  renown  in  arms.  The  streets  were 
full  of  well-dressed  persons  going  to  church,  the  women  for 
the  most  part,  I  must  say,  far  from  beautiful.  I  turned 
with  the  throng  and  followed  it  as  far  as  St.  Enoch's 
church,  in  Buchanan-street,  where  I  heard  a  long  dis- 
17 


194  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

course  from  a  sensible  preacher,  Dr.  Barr,  a  minister  of  the 
established  Kirk  of  Scotland. 

In  the  afternoon  I  climbed  one  of  the  steep  streets  to  the 
north  of  my  hotel,  and  found  three  places  of  worship,  built 
with  considerable  attention  to  architectural  effect,  and 
fresh,  as  it  seemed,  from  the  hands  of  the  mason.  They  all, 
as  I  was  told,  belonged  to  the  Free  Kirk,  which  has  lately 
been  rent  from  the  establishment,  and  threatens  to  leave  it 
a  mere  shadow  of  a  church,  like  the  Episcopal  church  ia 
Ireland.  "  Nothing,"  said  an  intelligent  Glasgow  friend  of 
mine,  "  can  exceed  the  zeal  of  the  friends  of  the  Free 
Church.  One  of  our  Glasgow  merchants  has  just  given 
fifteen  hundred  pounds  towards  the  fund  for  providing 
?nanses,  or  parsonages,  for  the  ministers  of  that  Church,  and 
I  know  of  several  who  have  subscribed  a  thousand.  In  all 
the  colleges  of  Scotland,  the  professors  are  obliged,  by  way 
of  test,  to  declare  their  attachment  to  the  Presbyterian 
Church  as  by  law  established.  Parliament  has  just  refused 
to  repeal  this  test,  and  the  friends  of  the  Free  Church  are 
determined  to  found  a  college  of  their  own.  Twenty 
thousand  pounds  had  already  been  subscribed  before  the 
government  refused  to  dispense  with  this  test,  and  the 
project  will  now  be  supported  with  more  zeal  than  ever." 

I  went  into  one  of  these  Free  churches,  and  listened  to  a 
sermon  from  Dr.  Lindsay,  a  comfortable-looking  professor  in 
some  new  theological  school.  It  was  quite  common-place, 
though  not  so  long  as-the  Scotch  ministers  are  in  the  habit 


BRIDGES     OF     AYR.  195 

of  giving ;  for  excessive  brevity  is  by  no  means  their  beset- 
ting infirmity.  At  the  close  of  the  exercises,  he  announced 
that  a  third  service  would  be  held  in  the  evening.  "  The 
subject,"  continued  he,  "  will  be  the  thoughts  and  exercises 
of  Jonah  in  the  whale's  belly." 

In  returning  to  my  hotel,  I  passed  by  another  new 
church,  with  an  uncommonly  beautiful  steeple  and  elaborate 
carvings.  I  inquired  its  name  ;  it  was  the  new  St.  John's, 
and  was  another  of  the  buildings  of  the  Free  Church. 

Ou  Monday  we  made  an  excursion  to  the  birthplace  of 
Burns.  The  railway  between  Glasgow  and  Ayr  took  us 
through  Paisley,  worthy  of  note  as  having  produced  our 
eminent  ornithologist,  Alexander  Wilson,  and  along  the 
banks  of  Castle  Semple  Loch,  full  of  swans,  a  beautiful 
sheet  of  water,  sleeping  among  green  fields  which  shelve 
gently  to  its  edge.  We  passed  by  Irvine,  where  Burns 
learned  the  art  of  dressing  flax,  and  traversing  a  sandy 
tract,  close  to  the  sea,  were  set  down  at  Ayr,  near  the  new 
bridge.  You  recollect  Burns's  dialogue  between  the  "  auld 
brig"  of  Ayr  and  the  new,  in  which  the  former  predicted 
that  vain  as  her  rival  might  be  of  her  new  and  fresh 
appearance,  the  time  would  shortly  come  when  she  would 
be  as  much  dilapidated  as  herself.  The  prediction  is  ful- 
filled ;  the  bridge  has  begun  to  give  way,  and  workmen  are 
busy  in  repairing  its  arches. 

We  followed  a  pleasant  road,  sometimes  agreeably  shaded 
by  trees,  to  Alloway.  As  we  went  out  of  Ayr  we  heard  a 


iyO  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

great  hammering  and  clicking  of  chisels,  and  looking  to  the 
right  we  saw  workmen  busy  in  building  another  of  the  Free 
Churches,  with  considerable  elaborateness  of  architecture,  in 
the  early  Norman  style.  The  day  was  very  fine,  the  sun 
bright,  and  the  sky  above  us  perfectly  clear  ;  but,  as  is 
generally  the  case  in  this  country  with  an  east  wind,  the 
atmosphere  was  thick  with  a  kind  of  dry  haze  which  veils 
distant  objects  from  the  sight.  The  sea  was  to  our  right, 
but  we  could  not  discern  where  it  ended  and  the  horizon 
began,  and  the  mountains  of  the  island  of  Arran  and  the 
lone  and  lofty  rock  of  Ailsa  Craig  looked  at  first  like  faint 
shadows  in  the  thick  air,  and  were  soon  altogether  undis- 
tinguishable.  We  came  at  length  to  the  little  old  painted 
kirk  of  Alloway,  in  the  midst  of  a  burying  ground,  roofless, 
but  with  gable-ends  still  standing,  and  its  interior  occupied 
by  tombs.  A  solid  upright  marble  slab,  before  the  church, 
marks  the  place  where  William  Burns,  the  father  of  the 
poet,  lies  buried.  A  little  distance  beyond  flows  the  Doon 
under  the  old  bridge  crossed  by  Tarn  O'Shanter  on  the 
night  of  his  adventure  with  the  witches. 

This  little  stream  well  deserves  the  epithet  of  "  bonnie," 
which  Burns  has  given  it.  Its  clear  but  dark  current,  flows 
rapidly  between  banks  often  shaded  with  ashes,  alders,  and 
other  trees,  and  sometimes  overhung  by  precipices  of  a 
reddish-colored  rock.  A  little  below  the  bridge  it  falls  into 
the  sea,  but  the  tide  comes  not  up  to  embitter  its  waters. 
From  the  west  bank  of  the  stream  the  land  rises  to  hills  of 


THE     DO  ON.  107 

considerable  height,  with  a  heathy  summit  and  wooded 
slopes,  called  Brown  Carrick  Hill.  Two  high  cliffs  near  it 
impend  over  the  sea,  which  are  commonly  called  the  Heads 
of  Ayr,  and  not  far  from  these  stands  a  fragment  of  an 
ancient  castle.  I  have  sometimes  wondered  that  born  as 
Burns  was  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  sea,  which  I  was 
told  is  often  swelled  into  prodigious  waves  by  the  strong 
west  winds  that  beat  on  this  coast,  he  should  yet  have 
taken  little  if  any  of  his  poetic  imagery  from  the  ocean, 
either  in  its  wilder  or  its  gentler  moods.  But  his  occupa- 
tions were  among  the  fields,  and  his  thoughts  were  of  those 
who  dwelt  among  them,  and  his  imagination  never  wan- 
dered where  his  feelings  went  not. 

The  monument  erected  to  Burns,  near  the  bridge,  is  an 
ostentatious  thing,  with  a  gilt  tripod  on  its  summit.  I  was 
only  interested  to  see  some  of  the  relics  of  Burns  which  it 
contains,  among  which  is  the  Bible  given  by  him  to  his 
Highland  Mary.  A  road  from  the  monument  leads  along 
the  stream  among  the  trees  to  a  mill,  at  a  little  distance 
above  the  bridge,  where  the  water  passes  under  steep  rocks, 
and  I  followed  it.  The  wild  rose  and  the  woodbine  were 
in  full  bloom  in  the  hedges,  and  these  to  me  were  a  better 
memorial  of  Burns  than  any  thing  which  the  chisel  could 
execute.  A  barefoot  lassie  came  down  the  grassy  bank 
among  the  trees  with  a  pail,  and  after  washing  her  feet  in 
the  swift  current  filled  the  pail  and  bore  it  again  over  the 
bank. 

17* 


198  LETTERS    OF    A     TRAVELLER. 

We  saw  many  visitors  sauntering  about  the  bridge  or  en- 
tering the  monument ;  some  of  them  seemed  to  be  country 
people, — young  men  with  their  sisters  and  sweethearts,  and 
others  in  white  cravats  with  a  certain  sleekness  of  appear- 
ance I  took  to  be  of  the  profession  of  divinity.  At  the  inn 
beside  the  Boon,  a  young  woman,  with  a  face  and  head  so 
round  as  almost  to  form  a  perfect  globe,  gave  us  a  dish  of 
excellent  strawberries  and  cream,  and  we  set  off  for  the 
house  in  which  Burns  was  born. 

It  is  a  clay-built  cottage  of  the  humblest  class,  and  now 
serves,  with  the  addition  of  two  new  rooms  of  a  better 
architecture,  for  an  ale-house.  Mrs.  Hastings,  the  landlady, 
showed  us  the  register,  in  which  we  remarked  that  a  very 
great  number  of  the  visitors  had  taken  the  pains  to  write 
themselves  down  as  shoemakers.  Major  Burns,  one  of  the 
sons  of  the  poet,  had  lately  visited  the  place  with  his  two 
daughters  and  a  younger  brother,  and  they  had  inscribed 
their  names  in  the  book. 

We  returned  to  Ayr  by  a  different  road  from  that  by 
which  we  went  to  Alloway.  The  haymakers  were  at 
work  in  the  fields,  and  the  vegetation  was  everywhere  in 
its  highest  luxuriance.  You  may  smile  at  the  idea,  but  I 
affirm  that  a  potato  field  in  Great  Britain,  at  this  season, 
is  a  prettier  sight  than  a  vineyard  in  Italy.  In  this  climate, 
the  plant  throws  out  an  abundance  of  blossoms,  pink  and 
white,  and  just  now  the  potato  fields  are  as  fine  as  so  many 
flower  gardens. 


BANKS     OF     THE     AYR.  199 

We  crossed  the  old  bridge  of  Ayr,  which  is  yet  in  good 
preservation,  though  carriages  are  not  allowed  to  pass  over 
it.  Looking  up  the  stream,  we  saw  solitary  slopes  and 
groves  on  its  left  hank,  and  I  fancied  that  I  had  in  my  eye 
the  sequestered  spot  on  the  banks  of  the  Ayr,  where  Burns 
and  his  Highland  Mary  held  the  meeting  described  in  his 
letters,  and  parted  to  meet  no  more. 


200  LETTER.S    OF    A     TRAVELLER- 


LETTER    XXV. 

IRELAND. DUBLIN. 

DUBLIN,  July  25,  1845. 

WE  left  Glasgow  on  the  morning  of  The  22d,  and  taking 
the  railway  to  Ardrossan  were  soon  at  the  beach.  One  of 
those  iron  steamers  which  navigate  the  British  waters,  far 
inferior  to  our  own  in  commodious  and  comfortable  arrange- 
ments, but  strong  and  safe,  received  us  on  board,  and  at  ten 
o'clock  we  were  on  our  way  to  Belfast.  The  coast  of  Ayr, 
with  the  cliff  near  the  birthplace  of  Burns,  continued  long 
in  sight  ;  we  passed  near  the  mountains  of  Arran,  high  and 
bare  steeps  swelling  out  of  the  sea,  which  had  a  look  of 
almost  complete  solitude  ;  and  at  length  Ailsa  Craig  began 
faintly  to  show  itself,  high  above  the  horizon,  through  the 
thick  atmosphere.  We  passed  this  lonely  rock,  about  which 
flocks  of  sea-birds,  the  solan  goose,  and  the  gannet,  on  long 
white  wings  with  jetty  tips,  were  continually  wheeling,  and 
with  a  glass  we  could  discern  them  sitting  by  thousands  on 
the  shelves  of  the  rock,  where  they  breed.  The  upper  part 
of  Ailsa,  above  the  cliffs,  which  reach  more  than  half-way 
to  the  summit,  appears  not  to  be  destitute  of  soil,  for  it  was 
tinged  with  a  faint  verdure. 


BELFAST.  201 

In  about  nine  hours — we  were  promised  by  a  lying  ad- 
vertisement it  should  be  six — we  had  crossed  the  channel, 
over  smooth  water,  and  were  making  our  way,  between 
green  shores  almost  without  a  tree,  up  the  bay,  at  the  bot- 
tom of  which  stands,  or  rather  lies,  for  its  (site  is  low,  the 
town  of  Belfast.  We  had  yet  enough  of  daylight  left  to 
explore  a  part  at  least  of  the  city.  "  It  looks  like  Albany," 
said  my  companion,  and  really  the  place  bears  some  resem- 
blance to  the  streets  of  Albany  which  are  situated  near  the 
river,  nor  is  it  without  an  appearance  of  commercial  ac- 
tivity. The  people  of  Belfast,  you  know,  are  of  Scotch 
origin,  with  some  infusion  of  the  original  race  of  Ireland. 
I  heard  English  spoken  with  a  Scotch  accent,  but  I  was 
obliged  to  own  that  the  severity  of  the  Scottish  physiognomy 
had  been  softened  by  the  migration  and  the  mingling  of 
breeds.  I  presented  one  of  my  letters  of  introduction,  and 
met  with  so  cordial  a  reception,  that  I  could  not  but  regret 
the  necessity  of  leaving  Belfast  the  next  morning. 

At  an  early  hour  the  next  day  we  were  in  our  seats  on 
the  outside  of  the  mail-coach.  We  passed  through  a  well- 
cultivated  country,  interspersed  with  towns  which  had  an 
appearance  of  activity  and  thrift.  The  dwellings  of  the 
cottagers  looked  more  comfortable  than  those  of  the  same 
class  in  Scotland,  and  we  were  struck  with  the  good  looks  of 
the  people,  men  and  women,  whom  we  passed  in  great 
numbers  going  to  their  work.  At  length,  having  traversed 
the  county  of  Down,  we  entered  Lowth,  when  an  imme- 


202  LETTERS    OF     A    TRAVELLER. 

diate  change  was  visible.  We  were  among  wretched  and 
dirty  hovels,  squalid-looking  men  and  women,  and  ragged 
children — the  stature  of  the  people  seemed  dwarfed  by  the 
poverty  in  which  they  have  so  long  lived,  and  the  jet-black 
hair  and  broad  faces  which  I  saw  around  me,  instead  of  the 
light  hair  and  oval  countenances  so  general  a  few  miles 
back,  showed  me  that  I  was  among  the  pure  Celtic  race. 

Shortly  after  entering  the  county  of  Lowth,  and  close  on 
the  confines  of  Armagh,  perhaps  partly  within  it,  we  trav- 
ersed, near  the  village  of  Jonesborough,  a  valley  full  of 
the  habitations  of  peat-diggers.  Its  aspect  was  most  re- 
markable, the  barren  hills  that  inclose  it  were  dark  with 
heath  and  gorse  and  with  ledges  of  brown  rock,  and  their 
lower  declivities,  as  well  as  the  level  of  the  valley,  black 
with  peat,  which  had  been  cut  from  the  ground  and  laid  in 
rows.  The  men  were  at  work  with  spades  cutting  it  from 
the  soil,  and  the  women  were  pressing  the  water  from  the 
portions  thus  separated,  and  exposing  it  to  the  air  to  dry. 
Their  dwellings  were  of  the  most  wretched  kind,  low  win- 
dowless  hovels,  no  higher  than  the  heaps  of  peat,  with 
swarms  of  dirty  children  around  them.  It  is  the  property 
of  peat  earth  to  absorb  a  large  quantity  of  water,  and  to 
part  with  it  slowly.  The  springs,  therefore,  in  a  region 
abounding  with  peat  make  no  brooks  ;  the  water  passes 
into  the  spongy  soil  and  remains  there,  forming  morasses 
even  on  the  slopes  of  the  hills. 

As  we  passed  out  of  this  black  valley  we  entered  a  kind 


FELLOW-PASSENGERS.  203 

of  glen,  and  the  guard,  a  man  in  a  laced  hat  and  scarlet 
coat,  pointed  to  the  left,  and  said,  "  There  is  a  pretty  place." 
It  was  a  beautiful  park  along  a  hill-side,  groves  and  lawns, 
a  broad  domain,  jealously  inclosed  by  a  thick  and  high  wall, 
beyond  which  we  had,'  through  the  trees,  a  glimpse  of  a 
stately  mansion.  Our  guard  was  a  genuine  Irishman, 
strongly  resembling  the  late  actor  Power  in  physiognomy, 
with  the  very  brogue  which  Power  sometimes  gave  to  his 
personages.  He  was  a  man  of  pithy  speech,  communica- 
tive, and  acquainted  apparently  with  every  body,  of  every 
class,  whom  we  passed  on  the  road.  Besides  him  we  had 
for  fellow-passengers  three  very  intelligent  Irishmen,  on 
their  way  to  Dublin.  One  of  them  was  a  tall,  handsome 
gentleman,  with  dark  hair  and  hazel  eyes,  and  a  rich  South- 
Irish  brogue.  He  was  fond  of  his  joke,  but  next  to  him  sat 
a  graver  personage,  in  spectacles,  equally  tall,  with  fair  hair 
and  light-blue  eyes,  speaking  with  a  decided  Scotch  accent. 
By  my  side  was  a  square-built,  fresh-colored  personage,  who 
had  travelled  in.  America,  and  whose  accent  was  almost 
English.  I  thought  I  could  not  be  mistaken  in  supposing 
them  to  be  samples  of  the  three  different  races  by  which 
Ireland  is  peopled. 

We  now  entered  a  fertile  district,  meadows  heavy  with 
grass,  in  which  the  haymakers  were  at  work,  and  fields 
of  wheat  and  barley  as  fine  as  I  had  ever  seen,  but  the 
habitations  of  the  peasantry  had  the  same  wretched  look, 
and  their  inmates  the  same  appearance  of  poverty.  Wher- 


204  i.  K  T  T  j:  i:  .s    o  i-1    A    T  n  \  \-  E  L  L  K  R. 

ever  the  coach  stopped  we  were  beset  with  swarms  of  beg- 
gars, the  wittiest  beggars  in  the  world,  and  the  raggedest, 
except  those  of  Italy.  One  or  two  green  mounds  stood  close 
to  the  road,  and  we  saw  others  at  a  distance.  "  They  are 
Danish  forts,"  said  the  guard.  "  Every  thing  we  do  not 
know  the  history  of,  we  put  upon  the  Danes,"  added  the 
South  of  Ireland  man.  These  grassy  mounds,  which  are 
from  ten  to  twenty  feet  in  height,  are  now  supposed  to  have 
been  the  burial  places  of  the  ancient  Celts.  The  peasantry 
can  with  difficulty  be  persuaded  to  open  any  of  them,  on 
account  of  a  prevalent  superstition  that  it  will  bring  bad 
luck.  A  little  'before  we  arrived  at  Drogheda,  I  saw  a 
tower  to  the  right,  apparently  a  hundred  feet  in  height,  with 
a  doorway  at  a  great  distance  from  the  ground,  and  a 
summit  somewhat  dilapidated.  "  That  is  one  of  the  round 
towers  of  Ireland,  concerning  which  there  is  so  much  dis- 
cussion," said  my  English-looking  fellow-traveller.  These 
round  towers,  as  the  Dublin  •  antiquarians  tell  me,  were 
probably  built  by  the  early  Christian  missionaries  from 
Italy,  about  the  seventh  century,  and  were  used  as  places 
of  retreat  and  defense  against  the  pagans. 

Not  far  from  Drogheda,  I  saw  at  a  distance  a  quiet- 
looking  valley.  "  That,"  said  the  English-looking  pas- 
senger, "  is  the  valley  of  the  Boyne,  and  in  that  spot  was 
fought  the  famous  battle  of  the  Boyne."  "  Which  the  Irish 
are  fighting  about  yet,  in  America,"  added  the  South  of 
Ireland  man.  Thev  pointed  out  near  the  spot,  a  cluster  of 


DUBLIN.  205 

trees  on  an  eminence,  where  Jarnes  beheld  the  defeat  of  his 
followers.  We  crossed  the  Boyne,  entered  Drogheda,  dis- 
mounted among  a  crowd  of  beggars,  took  our  places  in  the 
most  elegant  railway  wagon  we  had  ever  seen,  and  in  an 
hour  were  set  down  in  Dublin. 

I  will  not  weary  you  with  a  description  of  Dublin. 
Scores  of  travellers  have  said  that  its  public  buildings  are 
magnificent,  and  its  rows  of  private  houses,  in  many  of  the 
streets,  are  so  many  ranges  of  palaces,  Scores  of  travellers 
have  said  that  if  you  pass  out  of  these  fine  streets,  into 
the  ancient  lanes  of  the  city,  you  see  mud-houses  that 
scarcely  afford  a  shelter,  and  are  yet  inhabited. 

"  Some  of  these,"  said  a  Dublin  acquaintance  to  me, 
"  which  are  now  roofless  and  no  longer  keep  out  the 
weather,  yet  show  by  their  elaborate  cornices  and  their 
elegant  chimney-pieces,  that  the  time  has  been,  and  that 
not  very  long  since,  when  they  were  inhabited  by  the 
opulent  class."  He  led  me  back  of  Dublin  castle  to  show 
me  the  house  in  which  Swift  was  born.  It  stands  in  a 
narrow,  dirty  lane  called  Holy's  court,  close  to  the  well- 
built  part  of  the  town  :  its  windows  are  broken  out,  and  its 
shutters  falling  to  pieces,  and  the  houses  on  each  side  are  in 
the  same  condition,  yet  they  are  swarming  with  dirty  and 
ragged  inmates. 

I  have  seen  no  loftier  nor  more  spacious  dwellings  than 
those  which  overlook  St.  Stephen's  Green,  a  noble  park, 
planted  with  trees,  under  which  the  showery  sky  and  mild 


206  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

temperature  maintain  a  verdure  all  the  year,  even  in  mid- 
winter. About  Merrioii  square,  another  park,  the  houses 
have  scarcely  a  less  stately  appearance,  and  one  of  these 
with  a  strong  broad  balcony,  from  which  to  address  the 
people  in  the  street,  is  inhabited  by  O'Connell.  The  park 
of  the  University,  in  the  midst  of  the  city,  is  of  great  extent, 
and  the  beautiful  public  grounds  called  Phenix  Park,  have 
a  circumference  of  eight  miles.  "  Do  not  suppose,"  said  a 
friend  to  me,  "  that  these  spacious  houses  which  you  see 
about  you,  are  always  furnished  with  a  magnificence  cor- 
responding to  that  of  their  exterior.  It  is  often  the  case 
that  a  few  rooms  only  of  these  great  ranges  of  apartments 
are  provided  with  furniture,  and  the  rest  left  empty  and 
unoccupied.  The  Irishman  of  the  higher  class,  as  well  as 
of  the  humbler,  is  naturally  improvident,  generous,  fond  of 
enjoying  the  moment,  and  does  not  allow  his  income  to 
accumulate,  either  for  the  purpose  of  hoarding  or  the  pur- 
pose of  display." 

I  went  into  Conciliation  Hall,  which  resembles  a  New 
York  lecture-room,  and  was  shown  the  chair  where  the 
autocrat  of  Ireland,  the  Liberator,  as  they  call  him,  sits  near 
the  chairman  at  the  repeal  meetings.  Conciliation  Hall 
was  at  that  time  silent,  for  O'Connell  was  making  a  journey 
through  several  of  the  western  counties,  I  think,  of  Ireland, 
for  the  purpose  of  addressing  and  encouraging  his  followers. 
I  inquired  of  an  intelligent  dissenter  what  was  the  state  of 
the  public  feeling  in  Ireland,  with  regard  to  the  repeal  ques- 


THE     REPEAL     QUESTION.  207 

tion,  and  whether  the  popularity  of  O'Connell  was  still  as 
great  as  ever. 

"  As  to  O'Connell,"  he  answered,  "  I  do  not  know  whether 
his  influence  is  increasing,  but  I  am  certain  that  it  is  not  de- 
clining. With  regard  to  the  question  of  repealing  the  Union, 
there  is  a  very  strong  leaning  among  intelligent  men  in 
Ireland  to  the  scheme  of  a  federal  government,  in  other 
words  to  the  creation  of  an  Irish  parliament  for  local  legis- 
lation, leaving  matters  which  concern  Ireland  in  common 
with  the  rest  of  the  empire  to  be  decided  by  the  British 
Parliament." 

I  mentioned  an  extraordinary  declaration  which  I  had 
heard  made  by  John  O'Connell  on  the  floor  of  Parliament, 
in  answer  to  a  speech  of  Mr.  Wyse,  an  Irish  Catholic  mem- 
ber, who  supported  the  new-colleges  bill.  This  younger 
O'Connell  denounced  Wyse  as  no  Catholic,  as  an  apostate 
from  his  religion,  for  supporting  the  bill,  and  declared  that 
for  himself,  after  the  Catholic  Bishops  of  Ireland  had  ex- 
pressed their  disapproval  of  the  bill,  he  inquired  no  further, 
but  felt  himself  bound  as  a  faithful  member  of  the  Catholic 
Church  to  oppose  it. 

"  It  is  that  declaration,"  said  the  gentleman,  "  which  has 
caused  a  panic  among  those  of  the  Irish  Protestants  who 
were  well-affected  to  the  cause  of  repeal.  If  the  Union 
should  be  repealed,  they  fear  that  O'Connell,  whose  devo- 
tion to  the  Catholic  Church  appears  to  grow  stronger  and 
stronger,  and  whose  influence  over  the  Catholic  population 


208  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

is  almost  without  limit,  will  so  direct  the  legislation  of  the 
Irish  Parliament  as  only  to  change  the  religious  oppression 
that  exists  from  one  party  to  the  other.  There  is  much 
greater  liberality  at  present  among  the  Catholics  than 
among  their  adversaries  in  Ireland,  but  I  can  not  say  how 
much  of  it  is  owing  to  the  oppression  they  endure.  The 
fact  that  O'Connell  has  been  backward  to  assist  in  any 
church  reforms  in  Ireland  has  given  occasion  to  the  suspicion 
that  he  only  desires  to  see  the  revenues  and  the  legal  au- 
thority of  the  Episcopal  Church  transferred  to  the  Catholic 
Church.  If  that  should  happen,  and  if  the  principle  avowed 
by  John  O'Connell  should  be  the  rule  of  legislation,  scarcely 
any  body  but  a  Catholic  will  be  able  to  live  in  Ireland." 

Mr.  Wall,  to  whom  our  country  is  indebted  for  the  Hud- 
son River  Portfolio,  and  who  resided  in  the  United  States 
for  twenty-two  years,  is  here,  and  is,  I  should  think,  quite 
successful  in  his  profession.  Some  of  his  later  landscapes 
are  superior  to  any  of  his  productions  that  I  remember. 
Among  them  is  a  view  on  Lough  Corrib,  in  which  the 
ruined  castle  on  the  island  of  that  lake  is  a  conspicuous 
object.  It  is  an  oil  painting,  and  is  a  work  of  great  merit. 
The  Dublin  Art  Union  made  it  their  first  purchase  from  the 
exhibition  in  which  it  appeared.  Mr.  Wall  remembers 
America  with  much  pleasure,  and  nothing  can  exceed  his 
kindness  to  such  of  the  Americans  as  he  meets  in  Ireland. 

He  took  us  to  the  exhibition  of  the  Royal  Hibernian  So- 
ciety. Among  its  pictures  is  a  portrait  of  a  lady  by  Burton, 


PORTRAIT     IN    WATER -COLORS.  209 

in  water-colors,  most  surprising  for  its  perfection  of  execu- 
tion arid  expression,  its  strength  of  coloring  and  absolute 
nature.  Burton  is  a  native  of  Dublin,  and  is  but  twenty- 
five  years  old.  The  Irish  connoisseurs  claim  for  him  the 
praise  of  being  the  first  artist  in  water-colors  in  the  world. 
He  paints  with  the  left  hand.  There  are  several  other  fine 
things  by  him  in  the  exhibition.  Maclise,  another  Irish 
artist,  has  a  picture  in  the  exhibition,  representing  a  dra- 
matic author  offering  his  piece  to  an  actor.  The  story  is 
told  in  Gil  Bias.  It  is  a  miracle  of  execution,  though  it  has 
the  fault  of  hardness  and  too  equal  a  distribution  of  light. 
I  have  no  time  to  speak  more  at  large  of  this  exhibition,  and 
my  letter  is  already  too  long. 

This  afternoon  we  sail  for  Liverpool. 
18* 


210  LETTERS    OF     A     TRAVELLER. 


LETTER    XXVI. 

TJIE     LUNATIC     ASYLUM     AT     HANWELL. 

LONDON,  July  28,  1845. 

SINCE  we  came  to  England  we  have  visited  the  Lunatic 
Asylum  at  Hanwell,  in  the  neighborhood  of  London.  It  is 
a  large  building,  divided  into  numerous  apartments,  with 

the  plainest  accommodations,  for  the    insane  poor  of  the 
fey 
county  of  Middlesex.     It  is  superintended  by  Dr.  Conolly, 

who  is  most  admirably  fitted  for  the  place  he  fills,  by  his 
great  humanity,  sagacity,  and  ingenuity. 

I  put  these  qualities  together  as  necessary  to  each  other. 
Mere  humanity,  without  tact  and  skill,  would  fail  de- 
plorably. The  rude  and  coarse  methods  of  government 
which  consist  in  severity,  are  the  most  obvious  ones  ;  they 
suggest  themselves  to  the  dullest  minds,  and  cost  nothing 
but  bodily  strength  to  put  them  in  execution  ;  the  gentler 
methods  require  reflection,  knowledge,  and  dexterity.  It  is 
these  which  Dr.  Conolly  applies  with  perfect  success.  He 
has  taken  great  pains  to  make  himself  acquainted,  by  per- 
sonal observation,  with  the  treatment  of  the  insane  in 
different  hospitals,  not  only  in  England,  but  on.  the  conti- 
nent. He  found  that  to  be  the  most  efficacious  which 


THE     SOOTHING     SYSTEM.  211 

• 

interferes  least  with  their  personal  liberty,  and  on  this 
principle,  the  truth  of  which  an  experience  of  several  years 
has  now  confirmed,  he  founded  the  system  of  treatment  at 
Hanwell. 

We  had  letters  to  Dr.  Conolly,  with  the  kindness  and 
gentleness  of  whose  manners  we  were  much  struck.  He 
conducted  us  over  the  several  wards  of  the  Asylum.  We 
found  in  it  a  thousand  persons  of  both  sexes,  not  one  of 
whom  was  in  seclusion,  that  is  to  say  confined  because  it 
was  dangerous  to  allow  him  to  go  at  large  ;  nor  were  they 
subjected  to  any  apparent  restraint  whatever.  Some  were 
engaged  in  reading,  some  in  exercises  and  games  of  skill  ; 
of  the  females  some  were  occupied  in  sewing,  others  at  work' 
in  the  kitchen  or  the  laundry  ;  melancholic  patients  were 
walking  about  in  silence  or  sitting  gloomily  by  themselves  ; 
idiots  were  rocking  their  bodies  backward  and  forward  as 
they  sat,  but  all  were  peaceable  in  their  demeanor,  and  the 
greatest  quiet  prevailed.  No  chastisement  of  any  kind  is 
inflicted  ;  the  lunatic  is  always  treated  as  a  patient,  and 
never  as  an  offender.  When  he  becomes  so  outrageous  and 
violent  that  his  presence  can  be  endured  no  longer,  he  is  put 
into  a  room  with  padded  walls  and  floors  whore  he  can  do 
himself  no  mischief,  and  where  his  rage  is  allowed  to 
exhale.  Even  the  straight  jacket  is  unknown  here. 

I  said  that  the  demeanor  of  all  the  patients  with  whom 
the  Asylum  was  swarming  was  peaceable.  There  was  one 
exception.  On  entering  one  of  the  wards,  a  girl  of  an 


212  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

earnest  and  determined  Aspect,  as  soon  as  she  saw  Dr. 
Conolly  began  to  scream  violently,  and  sprang  towards  him, 
thrusting  aside  the  bystanders  by  main  force.  Two  of  the 
female  attendants  came  immediately  up  and  strove  to 
appease  her,  holding  her  back  without  severity,  as  a  mother 
would  restrain  her  infant.  I  saw  them  struggling  with  her 
for  some  time  ;  how  they  finally  disposed  of  her  I  did  not 
observe,  but  her  screams  had  ceased  before  we  left  the 
ward. 

Among  the  patients  was  one  who,  we  were  told,  was  re- 
markable for  his  extravagant  love  of  finery,  and  whose  cell 
was  plastered  over  with  glaring  colored  prints  and  patches 
of  colored  paper  ornamentally  disposed.  He  wore  on  his 
hat  a  broad  strip  of  tarnished  lace,  and  had  decorated  his 
waistcoat  with  several  perpendicular  rows  of  pearl  buttons. 

"  You  have  made  your  room  very  fine  here,"  said  the 
doctor. 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  smiling  and  evidently  delighted,  "  but, 
my  dear  sir,  all  is  vanity — all  is  vanity,  sir,  and  vexation  of 
spirit.  There  is  but  one  thing  that  we  ought  to  strive  for, 
and  that  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 

As  there  was  no  disputing  this  proposition,  we  passed  on 
to  another  cell,  at  the  door  of  which  stood  a  tall,  erect 
personage,  who  was  busy  with  a  pot  of  paint  and  a  brush, 
inscribing  the  pannels  with  mottoes  and  scraps  of  verse. 
The  walls  of  his  room  were  covered  with  poetry  and  pithy 
sentences.  Some  of  the  latter  appeared  to  be  of  his  own 


INMATES     OF     THE     ASYLUM.  213 

composition,  and  were  not  badly  turned ;  their  purport 
generally  was  this  :  that  birth  is  but  a  trivial  accident, 
and  that  virtue  and  talent  are  the  only  true  nobility. 
This  man  was  found  wandering  about  in  Chiswick,  full  of 
a  plan  for  educating  the  Prince  of  Wales  in  a  manner  to 
enable  him  to  fill  the  throne  with  credit  and  usefulness. 
As  his  name  could  not  be  learned,  the  appellation  of 
"  Chiswick"  was  given  him,  which  he  had  himself  adopted, 
styling  himself  Mr.  "  Chiswick"  in  his  mottoes,  but  always 
taking  care  to  put  the  name  between  inverted  commas. 

As  we  proceeded,  a  man  rose  from  his  seat,  and  laying 
both  hands  on  a  table  before  him,  so  as  to  display  his 
fingers,  ornamented  with  rings  made  of  black  ribbon,  in 
which  glass  buttons  were  set  for  jewels,  addressed  Dr. 
Conolly  with  great  respect,  formally  setting  forth  that  he 
was  in  great  want  of  a  new  coat  for  Sundays,  the  one  he 
had  on  being  positively  unfit  to  appear  in,  and  that  a  better 
had  been  promised  him.  The  doctor  stopped,  inquired  into 
the  case,  and  the  poor  fellow  was  gratified  by  the  assurance 
that  the  promised  coat  should  be  speedily  forthcoming. 

In  his  progress  through  the  wards  Dr.  Conolly  listened 
with  great  patience  to  the  various  complaints  of  the  in- 
mates. One  of  them  came  up  and  told  us  that  he  did  not 
think  the  methods  of  the  institution  judicious.  "  The 
patients,"  said  he,  "  are  many  of  them  growing  worse. 
One  in  particular,  who  has  been  here  for  several  weeks,  I 
can  see  is  growing  worse  every  day."  Dr.  Conolly  asked 


214  LETTERS    OF    A     TRAVELLER. 

the  name  of  this  patient — "  I  can  not  tell,"  said  the  man, 
"  but  I  can  bring  him  to  you."  "  Bring  him  then,"  said 
the  doctor  ;  and  after  a  moment's  absence  he  returned, 
leading  up  one  of  the  healthiest  and  quietest  looking  men 
in  the  ward.  "  He  looks  better  to  be  sure,"  said  the  man, 
"  but  he  is  really  worse."  A  burst  of  laughter  from  the 
patients  who  stood  by  followed  this  saying,  and  one  of  them 
looking  at  me  knowingly,  touched  his  forehead  to  intimate 
that  the  objector  was  not  exactly  in  his  senses. 

In  one  of  the  female  wards  we  were  introduced,  as  gen- 
tlemen from  America,  to  a  respectable-looking  old  lady  in 
black,  who  sat  with  a  crutch  by  her  side.  "  Are  you  not 
lawyers  ?"  she  asked,  and  when  we  assured  her  that  we 
were  only  Yankees,  she  rebuked  us  mildly  for  assuming 
such  a  disguise,  when  she  knew  very  well  that  we  were  a 
couple  of  attorneys.  "  And  you,  doctor,"  she  added,  "  I  am 
surprised  that  you  should  have  any  thing  to  do  with  such  a 
deception."  The  doctor  answered  that  he  was  very  sorry 
she  had  so  bad  an  opinion  of  him,  as  she  must  be  sensible 
that  he  had  never  said  any  thing  to  her  which  was  not 
true.  "  Ah,  doctor,"  she  rejoined,  "  but  you  are  the  dupe 
Of  these  people." 

It  was  in  the  same  ward,  I  think,  that  a  well-dressed 
woman,  in  a  bonnet  and  shawl,  was  promenading  the  room, 
carrying  a  bible  and  t\vo  smaller  volumes,  apparently  prayer 
01  hymn  books.  "  Have  you  heard  the  very  reverend 
Mr. ,  in  chapel  ?"  she  asked  of  my  fellow-trav- 


THE     LAW     OF     KINDNESS.  215 

eller.  I  have  unfortunately  forgotten  the  name  of  the 
preacher  and  his  chapel.  On  being  answered  in  the  nega- 
tive, "  Then  go  and  hear  him,"  she  added,  "  when  you 
return  to  London."  She  went  on  to  say  that  the  second 
coming  of  the  Saviour  was  to  take  place,  and  the  world  to 
he  destroyed  in  a  very  few  days,  and  that  she  had  a  com- 
mission to  proclaim  the  approach  of  that  event.  "  These 
poor  people,"  said  she,  "  think  that  I  am  here  on  the  same 
account  as  themselves,  when  I  am  only  here  to  prepare  the 
way  for  the  second  coming." 

"  I'm  thinking,  please  yer  honor,  that  it  is  quite  time  I 
was  let  out  of  this  place,"  said  a  voice  as  we  entered  one  of 
the  wards.  Dr.  Conolly  told  me  that  he  had  several  Irish 
patients  in  the  asylum,  and  that  they  gave  him  the  most 
trouble  on  account  of  the  hurry  in  which  they  were  to  be 
discharged.  "We  heard  the  same  request  eagerly  made  in 
the  same  brogue  by  various  other  patients  of  both  sexes. 

As  I  left  this  multitude  of  lunatics,  promiscuously  gath- 
ered from  the  poor  and  the  reduced  class,  comprising  all 
varieties  of  mental  disease,  from  idiocy  to  madness,  yet  all 
of  them  held  in  such  admirable  order  by  the  law  of  kind- 
ness, that  to  the  casual  observer  most  of  them  betrayed  no 
symptoms  of  insanity,  and  of  the  rest,  many  appeared  to  be 
only  very  odd  people,  quietly  pursuing  their  own  harmless 
whims,  I  could  not  but  feel  the  highest  veneration  for  the 
enlightened  humanity  by  which  the  establishment  was 
directed.  I  considered,  also,  if  the  feeling  of  personal  lib- 


216  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

erty,  the  absence  of  physical  restraint,  and  the  power  of 
moral  motives,  had  such  power  to  hold  together  in  perfect 
peace  and  order,  even  a  promiscuous  band  of  lunatics,  how 
much  greater  must  be  their  influence  over  the  minds  of  men 
in  a  state  of  sanity,  and  on  how  false  a  foundation  rest  all 
the  governments  of  force  !  The  true  basis  of  human  polity, 
appointed  by  God  in  our  nature,  is  the  power  of  moral  mo- 
tives, which  is  but  another  term  for  public  opinion. 

Of  the  political  controversies  which  at  present  agitate  the 
country,  the  corn-law  question  is  that  which  calls  forth  the 
most  feeling ;  I  mean  on  the  part  of  those  who  oppose  the 
restrictions  on  the  introduction  of  foreign  grain — for,  on  the 
other  side,  it  appears  to  me  that  the  battle  is  languidly 
fought.  Nothing  can  exceed  the  enthusiasm  of  the  adver- 
saries of  the  corn-laws.  With  some  of  them  the  repeal  of 
the  tax  on  bread  is  the  remedy  for  all  political  evils. 
"  Free  trade,  free  trade,"  is  the  burden  of  their  conversa- 
tion, and  although  a  friend  of  free  trade  myself,  to  the  last 
and  uttermost  limit,  I  have  been  in  circles  in  England,  in 
which  I  had  a  little  too  much  of  it.  Yet  this  is  an  example 
to  prove  what  a  strong  hold  the  question  has  taken  of  the 
minds  of  men,  and  how  completely  the  thoughts  of  many 
are  absorbed  by  it.  Against  such  a  feeling  as  that  which 
has  been  kindled  in  Great  Britain,  on  the  corn-law  question, 
no  law  in  our  country  could  stand.  So  far  as  I  can  judge, 
it  is  spreading,  as  well  as  growing  stronger.  I  am  told  that 
many  of  the  farmers  have  become  proselytes  of  the  League. 


THE     CORN-LAW     LEAGUE.  217 

The  League  is  a  powerful  and  prodigiously  numerous  asso- 
ciation, with  ample  and  increasing  funds,  publishing  able 
tracts,  supporting  well-conducted  journals,  and  holding 
crowded  public  meetings,  which  are  addressed  by  some  of 
tho  ablest  speakers  in  the  United  Kingdom.  I  attended  one 
of  these  at  Covent  Garden.  Stage,  pit,  boxes,  and  gallery 
of  that  large  building  were  filled  with  one  of  the  most 
respectable-looking  audiences,  men  and  women,  I  have  ever 
seen.  Among  the  speakers  of  the  evening  were  Cobden 
and  Fox.  Cobden  iR  physiognomy  and  appearance  might 
almost  pass  for  an  American,  and  has  a  certain  New  En- 
gland sharpness  and  shrewdness  in  his  way  of  dealing  with 
a  subject.  His  address  was  argumentative,  yet  there  was  a 
certain  popular  clearness  about  it,  a  fertility  of  familiar 
illustration,  and  an  earnest  feeling,  which  made  it  uncom- 
monly impressive.  Fox  is  one  of  the  most  fluent  and 
ingenious  speakers  I  ever  heard  in  a  popular  assembly. 
Both  were  listened  to  by  an  audience  which  seemed  to  hang 
on  every  word  that  fell  from  their  lips. 

The  musical  world  here  are  talking  about  Colman's  im- 
provement in  the  piano.  I  have  seen  the  instrument  which 
the  inventor  brought  out  from  America.  It  is  furnished 
with  a  row  of  brass  reeds,  like  those  of  the  instrument  called 
the  Seraphine.  These  take  up  the  sound  made  by  the 
string  of  the  piano,  and  prolong  it  to  any  degree  which  is 
desired.  It  is  a  splicing  of  the  sounds  of  one  instrument 
upon  another.  Yet  if  the  invention  were  to  be  left  where 
19 


218  LETTERS     OF    A     TRAVELLER. 

it  is,  iu  Colman's  instrument,  it  could  not  succeed  with  the 
public.  The  notes  of  the  reeds  are  too  harsh  and  nasal,  and 
want  the  sweetness  and  mellowness  of  tone  which  belong 
to  the  string  of  the  piano. 

At  present  the  invention  is  in  the  hands  of  Mr.  Rand,  the 
portrait  painter,  a  countryman  of  ours,  who  is  one  of  the 
most  ingenious  mechanicians  in  the  world.  He  has  im- 
proved the  tones  of  the  reeds  till  they  rival,  in  softness  and 
fullness,  those  of  the  strings,  and,  in  fact,  can  hardly  be  dis- 
tinguished from  them,  so  that  the  sounds  of  the  two  instru- 
ments run  into  one  another  without  any  apparent  difference. 
Mr.  Rand  has  contrived  three  or  four  different  machines  for 
making  the  reeds  with  dispatch  and  precision  ;  and  if  the 
difficulty  of  keeping  the  strings,  which  are  undergoing  a  con- 
stant relaxation,  in  perfect  unison  with  the  reeds  can  be 
overcome,  I  see  nothing  to  prevent  the  most  complete  and 
brilliant  success. 


NEW     STREETS     OF     PAKIS.  219 


LETTER    XXVII. 

CHANGES    IN    PARIS. 

PARIS,  August  9,  1845. 

MY  last  letter  was  dated  at  London,  in  my  passage 
across  England.  I  have  been  nearly  a  fortnight  in  Paris. 
In  ten  years  I  find  a  considerable  change  in  the  external 
aspect  of  this  great  capital.  The  streets  are  cleaner,  in 
many  of  them  sidewalks  have  been  made,  not  always  the 
widest  to  be  sure,  but  smoothly  floored  with  the  asphaltum 
of  Seyssel,  which  answers  the  purpose  admirably ;  the  gut- 
ters have  been  removed  from  the  middle  of  the  street  to  the 
edge  of  the  curbstone,  and  lately  the  curbstone  has  been 
made  to  project  over  them,  so  that  the  foot-passengers  may 
escape  the  bespattering  from  carriage-wheels  which  he 
would  otherwise  be  sure  to  get  in  a  rainy  day,  and  there 
are  many  such  days  in  this  climate — it  has  rained  every- 
day but  one  since  I  entered  France. 

New  passages  have  been  cut  from  street  to  street,  old 
streets  have  been  made  wider,  new  streets  have  been  made, 
with  broad  sidewalks,  and  stately  rows  of  houses  hewn  from 
the  easily  wrought  cream-colored  stone  of  the  quarries  of 
the  Seine.  The  sidewalks  of  the  Boulevards,  and  all  the 


220  L  E  T  T  E  R  S     OF     A     T  II  A  \'  K  L  L  1C  K . 

public  squares,  wherever  carriages  do  not  pass,  have  been 
covered  with  this  smooth  asphaltic  pavement,  and  in  the 
Boulevards  have  been  erected  some  magnificent  buildings, 
with  richly  carved  pilasters  and  other  ornaments  in  relief, 
and  statues  in  niches,  and  balconies  supported  by  stone 
brackets  wrought  into  bunches  of  foliage.  New  columns 
and  statues  have  been  set  up,  and  new  fountains  pour  out 
their  waters.  Among  these  is  the  fountain  of  Moliere,  in 
the  Rue  Richelieu,  where  the  effigy  of  the  comic  author, 
chiseled  from  black  marble,  with  flowing  periwig  and  broad- 
skirted  coat,  presides  over  a  group  of  naked  allegorical 
figures  in  white  marble,  at  whose  feet  the  water  is  gushing 
out. 

In  external  morality  also,  there  is  some  improvement ; 
public  gaming-houses  no  longer  exist,  and  there  are 
fewer  of  those  uncleanly  nuisances  which  offend  against  the 
code  of  what  Addison  calls  the  lesser  morals.  The  police 
have  had  orders  to  suppress  them  on  the  Boulevards  and 
the  public  squares.  The  Parisians  are,  however,  the  same 
gay  people  as  ever,  and  as  easily  amused  as  when  I  saw 
them  last.  They  crowd  in  as  great  numbers  to  the  opera 
and  the  theatres ;  the  Boulevards,  though  better  paved, 
are  the  same  lively  places  ;  the  guingettes  are  as  thronged  ; 
the  public  gardens  are  as  full  of  dancers.  In  these,  as  at 
the  New  Tivoli,  lately  opened  at  Chateau  Rouge  in  the 
suburbs,  a  broad  space  made  smooth  for  the  purpose  is  left 
between  tents,  where  the  young  grisettes  of  Paris,  married 


PHYSICAL     DEGENERACY.  221 

and  unmarried,  or  in  that  equivocal  state  which  lies  some- 
where between,  dance  on  Sunday  evening  till  midnight. 

At  an  earlier  hour  on  the  same  day,  as  well  as  on  other 
days,  at  old  Franconi's  Hippodrome,  among  the  trees,  just 
beyond  the  triumphal  arch  of  Neuilly,  imitations  of  the 
steeple  chase,  with  female  riders  who  leap  over  hedges, 
and  of  the  ancient  chariot-races  with  charioteers  helmeted 
and  mailed,  and  standing  in  gilt  tubs  on  wheels,  are 
performed  in  a  vast  amphiteatre,  to  a  crowd  that  could 
scarcely  have  been  contained  in  the  Colosseum  of  Rome. 

I  have  heard  since  I  came  here,  two  or  three  people 
lamenting  the  physical  degeneracy  of  the  Parisians.  One 
of  them  quoted  a  saying  from  a  report  of  Marshal  Soult, 
that  the  Parisian  recruits  for  the  army  of  late  years  were 
neither  men  nor  soldiers.  This  seems  to  imply  a  moral  as 
well  as  a  physical  deterioration.  "  They  are  growing 
smaller  and  smaller  in  stature,"  said  the  gentleman  who 
made  this  quotation,  "  and  it  is  difficult  to  find  among  them 
men  who  are  of  the  proper  height  to  serve  as  soldiers. 
The  principal  cause  no  doubt  is  in  the  prevailing  licen- 
tiousness. Among  that  class  who  make  the  greater  part 
of  the  population  of  Paris,  the  women  of  the  finest  persons 
rarely  become  mothers."  Whatever  may  be  the  cause,  I 
witnessed  a  remarkable  example  of  the  smallness  of  the 
Parisian  stature  on  the  day  of  my  arrival,  which  was  the 
last  of  the  three  days  kept  in  memory  of  the  revolution  of 
July.  I  went  immediately  to  the  Champs  Elysees,  to  see 
19* 


222  LETTERS    OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

the  people  engaged  in  their  amusements.  Some  twenty 
boys,  not  fully  grown,  as  it  seemed  to  me  at  first,  were 
dancing  and  capering  with  great  agility,  to  the  music  of  an 
instrument.  Looking  at  them  nearer,  I  saw  that  those 
who  had  seemed  to  me  hoys  of  fourteen  or  fifteen,  were 
mature  young  men,  some  of  them  with  very  fierce  musta- 
ches. 

Since  my  arrival  I  have  seen  the  picture  which  Vander- 
lyn  is  painting  for  the  Rotunda  at  Washington.  It 
represents  the  Landing  of  Columbus  on  the  shores  of  the 
New  World.  The  great  discoverer,  accompanied  by  his 
lieutenant  and  others,  is  represented  as  taking  possession  of 
the  newly  found  country.  Some  of  the  crew  are  seen 
scrambling  for  what  they  imagine  to  be  gold  dust  in  the 
sands  of  the  shore,  and  at  a  little  distance  among  the  trees 
are  the  naked  natives,  in  attitudes  of  wonder  and  worship. 
The  grouping  is  happy,  the  expression  and  action  skillfully 
varied — the  coloring,  so  far  as  I  could  judge  in  the  present 
state  of  the  picture,  agreeable.  "  Eight  or  ten  weeks  hard 
work,"  said  the  artist,  "  will  complete  it."  It  is  Vanderlyn's 
intention  to  finish  it,  and  take  it  to  the  United  States  in 
the  course  of  the  autumn. 


BRUSSELS.  223 


LETTER.    XXVIII. 

A    JOURNEY     THROUGH     THE    NETHERLANDS. 

ARNHEIM,  Guelderland,  August  19,  1848. 

AFTER,  writing  rny  last  I  was  early  asleep,  that  I  might 
set  out  early  the  next  morning  in  the  diligence  for  Brussels. 
This  I  did,  and  passing  through  Compeigne,  where  Joan 
of  Arc  was  made  prisoner — a  town  lying  in  the  midst  of  ex- 
tensive forests,  with  here  and  there  a  noble  group  of  trees  ; 
and  through  Noyon,  where  Calvin  was  born,  and  in  the 
old  Gothic  church  of  which  he  doubtless  worshiped ;  and 
through  Cambray.  where  Fenelon  lived  ;  and  through  fields 
of  grain  and  poppy  and  clover,  where  women  were  at  work, 
reaping  the  wheat,  or  mowing  and  stacking  the  ripe  pop- 
pies, or  digging  with  spades  in  their  wet  clothes,  for  it  had 
rained  every  day  but  one  during  the  thirteen  we  were  in 
France,  we  arrived  in  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day  at  the 
French  frontier.  From  this  a  railway  took  us  in  a  few 
hours  to  Brussels.  Imagine  a  rather  clean-looking  city,  of 
large  light-colored  buildings  mostly  covered  with  stucco, 
situated  on  an  irregular  declivity,  with  a  shady  park  in  the 
highest  part  surrounded  by  palaces,  and  a  little  lower  down 
a  fine  old  Gothic  cathedral,  and  still  lower  down,  the  old 


224  LETTERS    OF    A    TRAVELLER. 

« 

Town  Hall,  also  of  Gothic  architecture,  and  scarcely  less 
venerable,  standing  in  a  noble  paved  square,  around  which 
are  white  and  stately  edifices,  built  in  the  era  of  the 
Spanish  dominion  : — imagine  handsome  shops  and  a  good- 
looking  people,  with  a  liberal  sprinkling  of  priests,  in  their 
long-skirted  garments,  and  throw  in  the  usual  proportion  of 
dirt  and  misery,  and  mendicancy,  in  the  corners  and  by- 
places,  and  you  have  Brussels  before  you. 

It  still  rained,  but  we  got  a  tilbury  and  drove  out  to  see 
the  battle-ground  of  Waterloo.  It  was  a  dreary  drive  be- 
side the  wood  of  Soignes  and  through  a  part  of  it, — that 
melancholy-looking  forest  of  tall-stemmed  beeches — beech, 
beech,  nothing  but  beech — and  through  the  Walloon  vil- 
lages— Waterloo  is  one  of  them — and  through  fields  where 
wet  women  were  at  work,  and  over  roads  where  dirty  chil- 
dren by  dozens  were  dabbling  like  ducks  in  the  puddles. 
At  last  we  stopped  at  the  village  of  Mont  St.  Jean,  whence 
we  walked  through  the  slippery  mud  to  the  mound  erected  in 
the  midst  of  the  battle-field,  and  climbed  to  its  lop,  over- 
looking a  country  of  gentle  declivities  and  hollows.  Here 
the  various  positions  of  the  French  and  allied  armies  during 
the  battle  which  decided  the  fate  of  an  empire,  were  pointed 
out  to  us  by  a  young  Walloon  who  sold  wine  and  drams 
in  a  shed  beside  the  monument.  The  two  races  which 
make  up  the  population  of  Belgium  are  still  remarkably 
distinct,  notwithstanding  the  centuries  which  have  elapsed 
since  they  occupied  the  same  country  together.  The  Flem- 


ANTWERP.  225 

ings  of  Teutonic  origin,  keep  their  blue  eyes  and  fair 
hair,  and  their  ancient  language — the  same  nearly  as  the 
Dutch  of  the  sixteenth  century.  The  Walloons,  a  Celtic 
race,  or  Celtic  mixed  with  Roman,  are  still  known  by  their 
dark  hair  and  black  eyes,  and  speak  a  dialect  derived  from 
the  Latin,  resembling  that  of  some  of  the  French  provinces. 
Both  languages  are  uncultivated,  and  the  French  has  been 
adopted  as  the  language  of  commerce  and  literature  in 
Belgium. 

If  you  would  see  a  city  wholly  Flemish  in  its  character, 
you  should  visit  Antwerp,  to  which  the  railway  takes  you 
in  an  hour  and  a  half.  The  population  here  is  almost  with- 
out Walloon  intermixture,  and  there  is  little  to  remind 
you  of  what  you  have  seen  in  France,  except  the  French 
books  in  the  booksellers'  windows.  The  arts  themselves 
have  a  character  of  their  own  which  never  came  across 
the  Alps.  The  churches,  the  interior  of  which  is  always 
carefully  kept  fresh  with  paint  and  gilding,  are  crowded 
with  statues  in  wood,  carved  with  wonderful  skill  and 
spirit  by  Flemish  artists,  in  centuries  gone  by — oaken 
saints  looking  down  from  pedestals,  and  Adam  and  Eve  in 
the  remorse  of  their  first  transgression  supporting,  by  the 
help  of  the  tree  of  knowledge  and  the  serpent,  a  curiously 
wrought  pulpit.  The  walls  are  hung  with  pictures  by  the 
Flemish  masters,  wherever  space  can  be  found  for  them. 
In  the  Cathedral,  is  the  Descent  from  the  Cross,  by  Rubens, 
which  proves,  what  one  might  almost  doubt  who  had  only 


226  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

seen  his  pictures  in  the  Louvre,  that  he  was  a  true  artist 
and  a  man  of  genius  in  the  noblest  sense  of  the  term. 

We  passed  two  nights  in  Antwerp,  and  then  went  down 
the  Scheldt  in  a  steamer,  which,  in  ten  hours,  brought  us 
to  Rotterdam,  sometimes  crossing  an  arm  of  the  sea,  and 
sometimes  threading  a  broad  canal.  The  houses  on  each 
side  of  these  channels,  after  we  entered  Holland,  were  for  the 
most  part  freshly  painted  ;  the  flat  plains  on  each  side  pro- 
tected by  embankments,  and  streaked  by  long  wide  ditches 
full  of  water,  and  rows  of  pollard  willows.  Windmills  by 
scores,  some  grinding  corn,  but  most  of  them  pumping  water 
out  of  the  meadows  and  pouring  it  into  the  channel,  stood  on 
the  bank  and  were  swinging  their  long  arms  madly  in  a 
high  wind. 

On  arriving  at  Rotterdam,  you  perceive  at  once  that 
you  are  in  Holland.  The  city  has  as  many  canals  as 
streets,  the  canals  are  generally  overhung  with  rows  of  elms, 
and  the  streets  kept  scrupulously  clean  with  the  water  of 
the  canals,  which  is  salt.  Every  morning  there  is  a  vigorous 
splashing  and  mopping  performed  before  every  door  by 
plump  servant  girls,  in  white  caps  and  thick  wooden  shoes. 
Our  hotel  stood  fronting  a  broad  sheet  of  water  like  the 
lagoons  a-t  Venice,  where  a  solid  and  straight  stone  wharf 
was  shaded  with  a  row  of  elms,  and  before  our  door  lay 
several  huge  vessels  fastened  to  the  wharf,  which  looked  as 
if  they  were  sent  thither  to  enjoy  a  vacation,  for  they  were 
neither  loading  nor  unloading,  nor  did  any  person  appear  to 


ROTTERDAM.  227 

be  busy  abt,at  them.  Rotterdam  was  at  that  time  in  the 
midst  of  a  fair  which  filled  the  open  squares  and  the  wider 
streets  of  the  city  with  booths,  and  attracted  crowds  of 
people  from  the  country.  There  were  damsels  from  North 
Holland,  fair  as  snow,  and  some  of  them  pretty,  in  long- 
cared  lace  caps,  with  their  plump  arms  bare  ;  and  there 
were  maidens  from  another  province,  the  name  of  which 
I  did  not  learn,  equally  good-looking,  with  arms  as  bare, 
and  faces  in  white  muslin  caps  drawn  to  a  point  on  each 
cheek.  Olycoeks  were  frying,  and  waffles  baking  in  tem- 
porary kitchens  on  each  side  of  the  streets. 

The  country  about  Rotterdam  is  little  better  than  a 
marsh.  The  soil  serves  only  for  pasture,  and  the  fields  are 
still  covered  with  "  yellow  blossoms,"  as  in  the  time  of  Gold- 
smith, and  still  tufted  with  willows.  I  saw  houses  in  the 
city  standing  in  pools  of  dull  blue  water,  reached  by  a 
bridge  from  the  street :  I  suppose,  however,  there  might  be 
gardens  behind  them.  Many  of  the  houses  decline  very 
much  from  the  perpendicular  ;  they  are,  however,  apparently 
well-built  and  are  spacious.  We  made  no  long  stay  in 
Rotterdam,  but  after  looking  at  its  bronze  statue  of  Eras- 
mus, and  its  cathedral,  which  is  not  remarkable  in  any 
other  respect  than  that  it  is  a  Gothic  building  of  brick,  stone 
being  scarce  in  Holland,  we  took  the  stage-coach  for  the 
Hague  the  next  day. 

Green  meadows  spotted  with  buttercups  and  dandelions, 
flat  and  low,  lower  than  the  canals  with  which  the  country 


22S  LETTERS    OF    A    TRAVELLER. 

is  intersected,  and  which  bring  in  between  them,  at  high 
tide,  the' waters  of  the  distant  sea,  stretched  on  every  side. 
They  were  striped  with  long  lines  of  water  which  is  con- 
stantly pumped  out  by  the  windmills,  and  sent  with  the 
ebb  tide  through  the  canals  to  the  ocean.  Herds  of  cattle 
were  feeding  among  the  bright  verdure.  From  time  to 
time,  we  passed  some  pleasant  country-seat,  the  walls 
bright  with  paint,  and  the  grounds  surrounded  by  a  ditch, 
call  it  a  moat  if  you  please,  the  surface  of  which  was  green 
with  duck-weed.  But  within  this  watery  inclosure,  were 
little  artificial  elevations  covered  with  a  closely-shaven 
turf,  and  plantations  of  shrubbery,  and  in  the  more  extensive 
and  ostentatious  of  them,  were  what  might  be  called  groves 
and  forests.  Before  one  of  these  houses  was  a  fountain  with 
figures,  mouths  of  lions  and  other  animals,  gushing  profusely 
with  water,  which  must  have  been  pumped  up  for  the  pur- 
pose, into  a  reservoir,  by  one  of  the  windmills. 

Passing  through  Schiedam,  still  famous  for  its  gin,  and 
Delft,  once  famous  for  its  crockery,  we  reached  in  a  couple 
of  hours  the  Hague,  the  cleanest  of  cities,  paved  with  yel- 
low brick,  and  as  full  of  canals  as  Rotterdam.  I  called  on 
an  old  acquaintance,  who  received  me  with  a  warm  embrace 
and  a  kiss  on  each  cheek.  He  was  in  his  morning-gown, 
which  he  immediately  exchanged  for  an  elegant  frock  coat 
of  the  latest  Parisian  cut,  and  took  us  to  see  Baron  Vor- 
stolk's  collection  of  pictures,  which  contains  some  beautiful 
things  by  the  Flemish  artists,  and  next,  to  the  public  collec- 


SCHEVELING.  -  229 

tion  called  the  Museum.  From  this  we  drove  to  the 
Chateau  du  Bois,  a  residence  of  the  Dutch  Stadtholders  two 
hundred  years  ago,  when  Holland  was  a  republic,  and  a 
powerful  and  formidable  one.  It  is  pleasantly  situated  in 
the  edge  of  a  wood,  which  is  said  to  be  part  of  an  original 
forest  of  the  country.  I  could  believe  this,  for  here  the  soil 
rises  above  the  marshy  level  of  Holland,  and  trees  of  va- 
rious kinds  grow  irregularly  intermingled,  as  in  the  natural 
woods  of  our  own  country.  The  Chateau  du  Bois  is  princi- 
pally remarkable  for  a  large  room  with  a  dome,  the  interior 
of  which  is  covered  with  large  paintings  by  Rubens,  Jor- 
daens,  and  other  artists. 

Our  friend  took  leave  of  us,  and  we  drove  out  to  Scheve- 
ling,  where  Charles  II.  embarked  for  England,  when  he 
returned  to  take  possession  of  his  throne.  Here  dwell  a 
people  who  supply  the  fish-market  of  the  Hague,  speak 
among  themselves  a  dialect  which  is  not  understood  else- 
where in  Holland,  and  wear  the  same  costume  which  they 
wore  centuries  ago.  We  passed  several  of  the  women  go- 
ing to  market  or  returning,  with  large  baskets  on  their 
heads,  placed  on  the  crown  of  a  broad-brimmed  straw  bon- 
net, tied  at  the  sides  under  the  chin,  and  strapping  creatures 
they  were,  striding  along  in  their  striped  black  and  white 
petticoats.  In  the  streets  of  Scheveling,  I  saw  the  tallest 
woman  I  think  I  ever  met  with, -a  very  giantess,  considera- 
bly more  than  six  feet  high,  straddling  about  the  street  of 
the  little  village,  and  scouring  and  scrubbing  the  pave- 
20 


• 

230  LETTERS    OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

ment  with  great  energy.  Close  at  hand  was  the  shore  ;  a 
strong  west  wind  was  driving  the  surges  of  the  North  Sea 
against  it.  A  hundred  fishing  vessels  rocking  in  the  surf, 
moored  and  lashed  together  with  ropes,  formed  a  line  along 
the  beach  ;  the  men  of  Scheveling,  in  knit  woollen  caps, 
short  blue  jackets,  and  short  trowsers  of  prodigious  width, 
were  walking  about  on  the  shore,  but  the  wind  was  too 
high  and  the  sea  too  wild  for  them  to  venture  out.  Along 
this  coast,  the  North  Sea  has  heaped  a  high  range  of  sand- 
hills, which  protect  the  low  lands  within  from  its  own 
inundations  ;  but  to  the  north  and  south  the  shore  is  guarded 
by  embankments,  raised  by  the  hand  of  man  with  great 
cost,  and  watched  and  kept  in  constant  repair. 

We  left  the  Hague,  and  taking  the  railway,  in  a  little 
more  than  two  hours  were  at  Amsterdam,  a  great  commer- 
cial city  in  decay,  where  nearly  half  of  the  inhabitants  live 
on  the  charity  of  the  rest.  The  next  morning  was  Sunday, 
and  taking  advantage  of  an  interval  of  fair  weather,  for  it 
still  continued  to  rain  every  day,  I  went  to  the  Oudekerk, 
or  Old  Church,  as  the  ancient  Cathedral  is  called,  wrhich 
might  have  been  an  impressive  building  in  its  original  con- 
struction, but  is  now  spoiled  by  cross-beams,  paint,  galleries, 
partitions,  pews,  and  every  sort  of  architectural  enormity. 
But  there  is  a  noble  organ,  with  a  massive  and  lofty  front 
of  white  marble  richly  sculptured,  occupying  the  west  end 
of  the  chancel.  I  listened  to  a  sermon  in  Dutch,  the  de- 
livery of  which,  owing  partly  to  the  disagreeable  voice  of 


BROEK.  231 

the  speaker  and  partly  no  doubt  to  my  ignorance  of  the 
language,  seemed  to  me  a  kind  of  barking.  The  men 
all  wore  their  hats  during  the  service,  but  half  the  women 
were  without  bonnets.  When  the  sermon  and  prayer  were 
over,  the  rich  tones  of  the  organ  broke  forth  and  flooded  the 
place  with  melody. 

Every  body  visits  Broek,  near  Amsterdam,  the  pride  of 
Dutch  villages,  and  to  Broek  I  went  accordingly.  It  stands 
like  the  rest,  among  dykes  and  canals,  but  consists  alto- 
gether of  the  habitations  of  persons  in  comfortable  circum- 
stances, and  is  remarkable,  as  you  know,  for  its  scrupulous 
cleanliness.  The  common  streets  and  footways,  are  kept  in 
the  same  order  as  the  private  garden- walks.  They  are 
paved  with  yellow  bricks,  and  as  a  fair  was  to  open  in  the 
place  that  afternoon,  the  most  public  parts  of  them  were 
sanded  for  the  occasion,  but  elsewhere,  they  appeared  as  if 
just  washed  and  mopped.  I  have  never  seen  any  collection 
of  human  habitations  so  free  from  any  thing  offensive  to  the 
senses.  Saardam,  where  Peter  the  Great  began  his  appren- 
ticeship as  a  shipwright,  is  among  the  sights  of  Holland,  and 
we  went  the  next  day  to  look  at  it.  This  also  is  situated 
on  a  dyke,  and  is  an  extremely  neat  little  village,  but  has  not 
the  same  appearance  of  opulence  in  the  dwellings.  We  were 
shown  the  chamber  in  which  the  Emperor  of  Russia  lodged, 
and  the  hole  in  the  wall  where  he  slept,  for  in  the  old  Dutch 
houses,  as  in  the  modern  ones  of  the  farmers,  the  bed  is  a 
sort  of  high  closet,  or,  more  properly  speaking,  a  shelf  within 


232  LETTERS    OF    A    TRAVELLER. 

the  wall,  from  which  a  door  opens  into  the  room.  I  should 
have  mentioned  that,  in  going  to  Broek,  I  stopped  to  look 
at  one  of  the  farm-houses  of  the  country,  and  at  Saardam  I 
visited  another.  They  were  dairy  houses,  in  which  the 
milk  of  large  herds  is  made  into  butter.  The  lower  story 
of  the  dwelling,  paved  with  bricks,  is  used  in  winter  as  a 
stable  for  the  cattle  ;  in  the  summer,  it  is  carefully  cleansed 
and  painted,  so  that  not  a  trace  of  its  former  use  remains, 
and  it  then  becomes  both  the  dairy  and  the  abode  of  the 
family.  The  story  above  is  as  neat  as  the  hands  of  Dutch 
housewives  can  make  it ;  the  parlor,  the  dining-room,  the 
little  boxes  in  the  wall  which  hold  the  beds,  are  resplendent 
with  cleanliness. 

In  going  from  Amsterdam  by  railway  to  Utrecht,  we  per- 
ceived the  canals  by  which  the  plains  were  intersected  be- 
came fewer  and  fewer,  and  finally  we  began  to  see  crops  of 
grain  and  potatoes,  a  sign  that  we  had  emerged  from  the 
marshes.  We  stopped  to  take  a  brief  survey  of  Utrecht. 
A  part  of  its  old  cathedral  has  been  converted  into  a  beau- 
tiful Gothic  church,  the  rest  having  been  levelled  many 
years  ago  by  a  whirlwind.  But  what  I  found  most  remark- 
able in  the  city  was  its  public  walks.  The  old  walls  by 
which  Utrecht  was  once  inclosed  having  been  thrown  down, 
the  rubbish  has  formed  hillocks  and  slopes  which  almost 
surround  the  entire  city  and  border  one  of  its  principal  canals. 
On  these  hillocks  and  slopes,  trees  and  shrubs  have  been 
planted,  and  walks  laid  out  through  the  green  turf,  until  it 


PUBLIC     WALKS     OF     UTRECHT.  233 

has  become  one  of  the  most  varied  and  charming  pleasure- 
grounds  I  ever  saw — swelling  into  little  eminences,  sinking 
into  little  valleys,  descending  in  some  places  smoothly  to  the 
water,  and  in  others  impending  over  it.  We  fell  in  with-  a 
music-master,  of  whom  we  asked  a  question  or  two.  He 
happened  to  know  a  little  German,  hy  the  help  of  which 
he  pieced  out  his  Dutch  so  as  to  make  it  tolerably  intelli- 
gible to  me.  He  insisted  upon  showing  us  every  thing  re- 
markable in  Utrecht,  and  finally  walked  us  tired. 

The  same  evening  the  diligence  brought  us  to  Arn- 
heim,  a  neat-looking  town  with  about  eighteen  hundred 
inhabitants,  in  the  province  of  Guelderland,  wnere  the 
region  retains  not  a  trace  of  the  peculiarities  of  Holland. 
The  country  west  of  the  town  rises  into  commanding  emi- 
nences, overlooking  the  noble  Rhine,  and  I  feel  already  that 
I  am  in  Germany,  though  1  have  yet  to  cross  the  frontier. 
20* 


LETTERS     OF    A     TRAVELLER. 


LETTER   XXIX. 

AMERICAN     ARTISTS     ABROAD. 

ROME,  October,  1845. 

You  would  perhaps  like  to  hear  what  the  American  ai- 
tists  on  the  continent  are  doing.  I  met  with  Leutze  at 
Diisseldorf.  After  a  sojourn  of  some  days  in  Holland,  in. 
which  I  was  obliged  to  talk  to  the  Dutchmen  in  German 
and  get  my  answers  in  Dutch,  with  but  a  dim  apprehen- 
sion of  each  other's  meaning,  as  you  may  suppose,  on  both 
sides  ;  after  being  smoked  through  and  through  like  a  her- 
ring, with  the  fumes  of  bad  tobacco  in.  the  railway  wagons, 
and  in  the  diligence  which  took  us  over  the  long  and 
monotonous  road  on  the  plains  of  the  Rhine  betAveen 
Arnheim  and  Diisseldorf — after  dodging  as  well  as  we  were 
able,  the  English  travellers,  generally  the  most  disagreeable 
of  the  travelling  tribe,  who  swarm  along  the  Rhine  in  the 
summer  season,  it  was  a  refreshment  to  stop  a  day  at 
Diisseldorf  and  take  breath,  and  meet  an  American  face  or 
two.  "\Ve  found  Leutze  engaged  upon  a  picture,  the  sub- 
ject of  Avhich  is  John  Knox  reproving  Queen  Mary.  It 
promises  to  be  a  capital  work.  The  stern  gravity  of  Knox. 
the  embarrassment  of  the  dueen,  and  the  scorn  with  which 


DUSSELDORF.  23?) 


the  French  damsels  of  her  court  regard  the  saucy  Reformer, 
are  extremely  well  expressed,  and  tell  the  story  impressively. 

At  Diisseldorf,  which  is  the  residence  of  so  many  eminent 
painters,  we  expected  to  find  some  collection,  or  at  least 
some  of  the  best  specimens,  of  the  works  of  the  modern 
German  school.  It  was  not  so,  however — fine  pictures  are 
painted  at  Diisseldorf,  but  they  are  immediately  carried 
elsewhere.  We  visited  the  studio  of  Schroter — a  man 
with  humor  in  every  line  of  his  face,  who  had  nothing  to 
show  us  but  a  sketch,  just  prepared  for  the  easel,  of  the 
scene  in  Goethe's  Faust,  where  Mephistophiles,  in  Auer- 
bach's  cellar,  bores  the  edge  of  the  table  with  a  gimlet,  and 
a  stream  of  champagne  gushes  out.  Kb'hler,  an  eminent 
artist,  allowed  us  to  see  a  clever  painting  on  his  easel,  in  a 
state  of  considerable  forwardness,  representing  the  rejoicings 
of  the  Hebrew  maidens  at  the  victory  of  David  over  Goliath. 
At  Lessing's — a  painter  whose  name  stands  in  the  first 
rank,  and  whom  we  did  not  find  at  home — we  saw  a  sketch 
on  which  he  was  engaged,  representing  the  burning  of  John 
Huss  ;  yet  it  was  but  a  sketch,  a  painting  in  embryo. 

But  I  am  wandering  from  the  American  artists.  At 
Cologne,  whither  we  were  accompanied  by  Leutze,  he  pro- 
cured us  the  sight  of  his  picture  of  Columbus  before  the 
Council  of  Salamanca,  one  of  his  best.  Leutze  ranks  high 
in  Germany,  as  a  young  man  of  promise,  devoting  himself 
with  great  energy  and  earnestness  to  his  art. 

At  Florence  we  found  Greenough  just  returned  from  a 


236  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

year's  residence  at  Graefenberg,  whence  he  had  brought 
back  his  wife,  a  patient  of  Priessnitz  and  the  water  cure,  in 
florid  health.  He  is  now  applying  himself  to  the  comple- 
tion of  the  group  which  he  has  engaged  to  execute  for  the 
capitol  at  Washington.  It  represents  an  American  settler, 
an  athletic  man,  in  a  hunting  shirt  and  cap,  a  graceful 
garb,  by  the  way,  rescuing  a  female  and  her  infant  from  a 
savage  who  has  just  raised  his  tomahawk  to  murder  them. 
Part  of  the  group,  the  hunter  and  the  Indian,  is  already  in 
marble,  and  certainly  the  effect  is  wonderfully  fine  and 
noble.  The  hunter  has  approached  his  enemy  unexpectedly 
irom  behind,  and  grasped  both  his  arms,  holding  them  back, 
in  such  a  manner  that  he  has  no  command  of  their  muscles, 
even  for  the  purpose  of  freeing  himself.  Besides  the  par- 
ticular incident  represented  by  the  group,  it  may  pass  for 
an  image  of  the  aboriginal  race  of  America  overpowered 
and  rendered  helpless  by  the  civilized  race.  Greemnigh's 
statue  of  Washington  is  not  as  popular  as  it  deserves  to  be  ; 
but  the  work  on  which  he  is  now  engaged  I  am  very  sure 
will  meet  with  a  different  reception. 

In  a  letter  from  London,  I  spoke  of  the  beautiful  figure 
of  the  Greek  slave,  by  Powers.  At  Florence  I  saw  in  his 
studio,  the  original  model,  from  which  his  workmen  were 
cutting  two  copies  in  marble.  At  the  same  place  I  saw  his 
Proserpine,  an  ideal  bust  of  great  sweetness  and  beauty,  the 
fair  chest  swelling  out  from  a  circle  of  leaves  of  the  acan- 
thus. About  this  also  the  workmen  were  busy,  and  I 


POWERS.  237 

learned  that  seven  copies  of  it  had  been  recently  ordered  from 
the  hand  of  the  artist.  By  its  side  stood  the  unfinished 
statue  of  Eve,  with  the  fatal  apple  in  her  hand,  an  earlier 
work,  which  the  world  has  just  begun  to  admire.  I  find 
that  connoisseurs  are  divided  in  opinion  concerning  the  merit 
of  Powers  as  a  sculptor. 

All  allow  him  the  highest  degree  of  skill  in  execution, 
but  some  deny  that  he  has  shown  equal  ability  in  his  con- 
ceptions. "He  is  confessedly,"  said  one  of  them  to  me, 
who,  however,  had  not  seen  his  Greek  slave,  "  the  greatest 
sculptor  of  busts  in  the  world — equal,  in  fact,  to  any  that 
the  world  ever  saw ;  the  finest  heads  of  antiquity  are  not 
of  a  higher  order  than  his."  He  then  went  on  to  express 
his  regret  that  Powers  had  not  confined  his  labors  to  a 
department  in  which  he  was  so  pre-eminent.  I  have  heard 
that  Powers,  who  possesses  great  mechanical  skill,  has 
devised  several  methods  of  his  own  for  giving  precision  and 
perfection  to  the  execution  of  his  works.  It  may  be  that 
my  unlearned  eyes  are  dazzled  by  this  perfection,  but  really 
I  can  not  imagine  any  thing  more  beautiful  of  its  kind  than 
his  statue  of  the  Greek  slave. 

Gray  is  at  this  moment  in  Florence,  though  he  is  soon 
coming  to  Rome.  He  has  made  some  copies  from  Titian, 
one  of  which  I  saw.  It  was  a  Madonna  and  child,  in 
which  the  original  painting  was  rendered  with  all  the 
fidelity  of  a  mirror.  So  indisputably  was  it  a  Titian,  and 
so  free  from  the  stiffness  of  a  copy,  that,  as  I  looked  at  it,  I 


238  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

fully  sympathized  with  the  satisfaction  expressed  by  the 
artist  at  having  attained  the  method  of  giving  with  ease  the 
peculiarity  of  coloring  which  belongs  to  Titian's  pictures. 

An  American  landscape  painter  of  high  merit  is  G.  L. 
Brown,  now  residing  at  Florence.  He  possesses  great 
knowledge  of  detail,  which  he  knows  how  to  keep  in  its 
place,  subduing  it,  and  rendering  it  subservient  to  the 
general  effect.  I  saw  in  his  studio  two  or  three  pictures, 
in  which  I  admired  his  skill  in  copying  the  various  forms 
of  foliage  and  other  objects,  nor  was  I  less  pleased  to  see 
that  he  was  not  content  with  this  sort  of  merit,  but,  in 
going  back  from  the  foreground,  had  the  art  of  passing  into 
that  appearance  of  an  infinity  of  forms  and  outlines  which 
the  eye  meets  with  in  nature.  I  could  not  help  regretting 
that  one  who  copied  nature  so  well,  should  not  prefer  to  rep- 
resent her  as  she  appears  in  our  own  fresh  and  glorious  land, 
instead  of  living  in  Italy  and  painting  Italian  landscapes. 

To  refer  again  to  foreign  artists — before  I  left  Florence  I 
visited  the  annual  exhibition  which  had  been  opened  in  the 
Academy  of  the  Fine  Arts.  There  were  one  or  two  land- 
scapes reminding  me  somewhat  of  Cole's  manner,  but  greatly 
inferior,  and  one  or  two  good  portraits,  and  two  or  three 
indifferent  historical  pictures.  The  rest  appeared  to  me 
decidedly  bad ;  wretched  landscapes ;  portraits,  some  of 
which  were  absolutely  hideous,  stiff*,  ill-colored,  and  full 
vf  grimace. 

Here  at  Rome,  we  have  an  American  sculptor  of  great 


BROWN'S     STATUE     OF     RUTH.  239 

ability,  Henry  K.  Brown,  who  is  just  beginning  to  be  talked 
about.  He  is  executing  a  statue  of  Ruth  gleaning  in  the 
field  of  Boaz,  of  which  the  model  has  been  ready  for  some 
months,  and  is  also  modelling  a  figure  of  Rebecca  at  the 
Well.  When  I  first  saw  his  Ruth  I  was  greatly  struck  with 
it.  but  after  visiting  the  studios  of  Wyatt  and  Gibson,  and 
observing  their  sleek  imitations  of  Grecian  art.  their  learned 
and  faultless  statues,  nymphs  or  goddesses  or  gods  of  the 
Greek  mythology,  it  was  with  infinite  pleasure  that  my 
eyes  rested  again  on  the  figure  and  face  of  Ruth,  perhaps 
not  inferior  in  perfection  of  form,  but  certainly  informed 
with  a  deep  human  feeling  which  I  found  not  in  their 
elaborate  works.  The  artist  has  chosen  the  moment  in 
which  Ruth  is  addressed  by  Boaz  as  she  stands  among  the 
gleaners.  He  quoted  to  me  the  lines  of  Keats,  on  the  song 
of  the  nightingale — 

"  Perchance  the  self-same  song  that  found  a  path 
To  the  sad  heart  of  Ruth,  when  sick  for  home, 
She  stood  in  tears  amid  the  alien's  corn." 

She  is  not  in  tears,  but  her  aspect  is  that  of  one  who  listens 
in  sadness ;  her  eyes  are  cast  down,  and  her  thoughts  are 
of  the  home  of  her  youth,  in  the  land  of  Moab,  Over  her 
left  arm  hangs  a  handful  of  ears  of  wheat,  which  she  has 
gathered  from  the  ground,  and  her  right  rests  on  the 
drapery  about  her  bosom.  Nothing  can  be  more  graceful 
than  her  attitude  or  more  expressive  of  melancholy  sweet- 
ness and  modesty  than  her  physiognomy.  One  of  the 


240  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

copies  which  the  artist  was  executing — there  were  two  of 
them — is  designed  for  a  gentleman  in  Albany.  Brown  will 
shortly,  or  I  am  greatly  mistaken,  achieve  a  high  reputation 
among  the  sculptors  of  the  time. 

Rosseter,  an  American  painter,  who  has  passed  six  years 
in  Italy,  is  engaged  on  a  large  picture,  the  subject  of  which 
is  taken  from  the  same  portion  of  Scripture  history,  and 
which  is  intended  for  the  gallery  of  an  American  gentleman. 
It  represents  Naomi  with  her  two  daughters-in-law,  when 
"  Orpah  kissed  her,  but  Ruth  clave  unto  her."  The  princi- 
pal figures  are  those  of  the  Hebrew  matron  and  Ruth,  who 
have  made  their  simple  preparations  for  their  journey  to 
the  land  of  Israel,  while  Orpah  is  turning  sorrowfully  away 
to  join  a  caravan  of  her  country  people.  This  group  is  well 
composed,  and  there  is  a  fine  effect  of  the  rays  of  the  rising 
sun  on  the  mountains  and  rocks  of  Moab. 

At  the  studio  of  Lang,  a  Philadelphia  artist,  I  saw 
two  agreeable  pictures,  one  of  which  represents  a  young 
woman  whom  her  attendants  and  companions  are  arraying 
for  her  bridal.  As  a  companion  piece  to  this,  but  not  yet 
finished,  he  had  upon  the  easel  a  picture  of  a  beautiful  girl, 
decked  for  espousals  of  a  different  kind,  about  to  take  the 
veil,  and  kneeling  in  the  midst  of  a  crowd  of  friends  and 
priests,  while  one  of  them  is  cutting  off"  her  glossy  and  flow- 
ing hair.  Both  pictures  are  designed  for  a  Boston  gentle- 
man, but  a  duplicate  of  the  first  has  already  been  painted 
for  the  King  of  Wirtemberg. 


BUFFALO.  241 


LETTER   XXX. 
B  U  F  F  A  L  0. — C  L  E  V  E  L  A  N  D. — D  E  T  R  O I  T. 

STEAMER  OREGON,  LAKE  HURON,          > 
Off  Thunder  Bay,  July  24,  1846.  \ 

As  I  approached  the  city  of  Buffalo  the  other  morning, 
from  the  east,  I  found  myself  obliged  to  confess  that  much 
of  the  beauty  of  a  country  is  owing  to  the  season.  For 
twenty  or  thirty  miles  before  we  reached  Lake  Erje,  the 
fields  of  this  fertile  region  looked  more  and  more  arid  and 
sun-scorched,  and  I  could  not  but  contrast  their  appearance 
with  that  of  the  neighborhood  of  New  York,  where  in  a 
district  comparatively  sterile,  an  uncommonly  showery  season 
has  kept  the  herbage  fresh  and  deep,  and  made  the  trees 
heavy  with  leaves.  Here,  on  the  contrary,  I  saw  meadows 
tinged  by  the  drought  with  a  reddish  hue,  pastures  grazed 
to  the  roots  of  the  grass,  and  trees  spreading  what  seemed 
to  me  a  meagre  shade.  Yet  the  harvests  of  wheat,  and 
even  of  hay,  in  western  New  York,  are  said  to  be  by  no 
means  scanty. 

Buffalo  continues  to  extend  on   every  side,  but  the  late 

additions  to  the  city  do  not  much  improve  its  beauty.     Its 

nucleus  of  well-built  streets  does  not  seem  to  have  grown 

much  broader  within  the  last  five  years,  but  the  suburbs 

21 


242  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

are  rapidly  spreading — small  wooden  houses,  scattered  or  in 
clusters,  built  hastily  for  emigrants  along  unpaved  and 
powdery  streets.  I  saw,  however,  on  a  little  excursion 
which  I  made  into  the  surrounding  country,  that  pleasant 
little  neighborhoods  are  rising  up  at  no  great  distance,  with 
their  neat  houses,  their  young  trees,  and  their  new  shrub- 
bery. They  have  a  fine  building  material  at  Buffalo — a 
sort  of  brown  stone,  easily  wrought — but  I  was  sorry  to  see 
that  most  of  the  houses  built  of  it,  both  in  the  town  and 
country,  seemed  to  have  stood  for  several  years. 

We  visited  the  new  fort  which  the  government  is  erecting 
on  the  lake,  a  little  to  the  north  of  the  town,  commanding 
the  entrance  of  Niagara  river.  It  is  small,  but  of  wonderful 
apparent  strength,  with  walls  of  prodigious  thickness,  and  so 
sturdy  in  its  defences  that  it  seemed  to  me  one  might  as 
well  think  of  cannonading  the  cliffs  of  Weehawken.  It  is 
curious  to  see  how,  as  we  grow  more  ingenious  in  the  means 
of  attack,  we  devise  more  effectual  means  of  defence.  A 
castle  of  the  middle  ages,  in  which  a  grim  warrior  of  that 
time  would  hold  his  enemies  at  bay  for  years,  would  now  be 
battered  down  before  breakfast.  The  finest  old  forts  of  the 
last  century  are  now  found  to  be  unsafe  against  attack. 
That  which  we  have  at  St.  Augustine  was  an  uncommonly 
good  sample  of  its  kind,  but  when  I  was  in  Florida,  three  or 
four  years  since,  an  engineer  of  the  United  States  was  engaged 
in  reconstructing  it.  Do  mankind  gain  any  thing  by  these 
improvements,  as  they  are  called,  in  the  art  of  war  ?  Do 


LEOPOLD     DE     MEYER.  243 

not  these  more  dreadful  engines  of  attack  on  the  one  side, 
and  these  more  perfect  means  of  protection  on  the  other, 
leave  the  balance  just  where  it  was  before  ? 

On  Tuesday  evening,  at  seven  o'clock,  we  took  passage  in 
the  steamer  Oregon,  for  Chicago,  and  soon  lost  sight  of  the 
roofs  and  spires  of  Buffalo.  A  lady  of  Buffalo  on  her  way 
to  Cleveland  placed  herself  at  the  piano,  and  sang  several 
songs  with  such  uncommon  sweetness  and  expression  that  I 
saw  no  occasion  to  be  surprised  at  what  I  heard  of  the  con- 
cert of  Leopold  de  Meyer,  at  Buffalo,  the  night  before.  The 
concert  room  was  crowded  with  people  clinging  to  each 
other  like  bees  when  they  swarm,  and  the  whole  affair 
seemed  an  outbreak  of  popular  enthusiasm.  A  veteran 
teacher  of  music  in  Buffalo,  famous  for  being  hard  to  be 
pleased  by  any  public  musical  entertainment,  found  himself 
unable  to  sit  still  during  the  first  piece  played  by  De  Meyer, 
but  rose,  in  the  fullness  of  his  delight,  and  continued  stand- 
ing. When  the  music  ceased,  he  ran  to  him  and  shook 
both  of  his  hands,  again  and  again,  with  most  uncomfortable 
energy.  At  the  end  of  the  next  performance  he  sprang 
again  on  the  platform  and  hugged  the  artist  so  rapturously 
that  the  room  rang  with  laughter.  De  Meyer  was  to  give 
another  concert  on  Tuesday  evening  at  Niagara  Falls,  and 
the  people  of  Buffalo  were  praparing  to  follow  him. 

The  tastes  of  our  people  are  certainly  much  changed 
within  the  last  twenty  years.  A  friend  of  ours  used  to 
relate,  as  a  good  joke,  the  conversation  of  two  men,  who 


244  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

came  to  the  conclusion  that  Paganini  was  the  greatest  man 
in  the  world.  They  were  only  a  little  in  advance  of  their 
age.  If  such  are  the  honors  reaped  by  De  Meyer,  we  shall 
not  be  astonished  if  Sivori,  when  he  comes  over,  passes  for 
the  greatest  man  of  his  time. 

The  next  morning  found  us  with  the  southern  shore  of 
Lake  Erie  in  sight — a  long  line  of  woods,  with  here  and 
there  a  cluster  of  habitations  on  the  shore.  "  That  village 
where  you  see  the  light-house,"  said  one  of  the  passengers, 
who  came  from  the  hills  of  Maine,  "is  Grand  River,  and 
from  that  place  to  Cleveland,  which  is  thirty  miles  distant, 
you  have  the  most  beautiful  country  under  the  sun — perfectly 
beautiful,  sir ;  not  a  hill  the  whole  way,  and  the  finest 
farms  that  were  ever  seen  ;  you  can  buy  a  good  farm  there 
for  two  thousand  dollars."  In  two  or  three  hours  after- 
ward we  were  at  Cleveland,  and  I  hastened  on  shore. 

It  is  situated  beyond  a  steep  bank  of  the  lake,  nearly  as 
elevated  as  the  shore  at  Brooklyn,  which  we  call  Brooklyn 
Heights.  As  I  stood  on  the  edge  of  this  bank  and  looked 
over  the  broad  lake  below  me,  stretching  beyond  the  sight 
and  quivering  in  the  summer  wind,  I  was  reminded  of  the 
lines  of  Southey  : 

"  Along  the  bending  line  of  shore 

Such  hue  is  thrown  as  when  the  peacock's  neck 
Assumes  its  proudest  tint  of  amethyst, 
Embathed  in  emerald  glory." 

But  it  was  not  only  along  the  line  of  the  shore  that  these 


CLEVELAND.  245 

hues  prevailed  ;  the  whole  lake  glowed  with  soft  amethystine 
and  emerald  tinges,  in  irregular  masses,  like  the  shades  of 
watered  silk.  Cleveland  stands  in  that  beautiful  country 
without  a  hill,  of  which  rny  fellow-passenger  spoke — a 
thriving  village  yet  to  grow  into  a  proud  city  of  the  lake 
country.  It  is  built  upon  broad  dusty  ways,  in  which  not 
a  pebble  is  seen  in  the  fat  dark  earth  of  the  lake  shore,  and 
which  are  shaded  with  locust-trees,  the  variety  called  seed- 
locust,  with  crowded  twigs  and  clustered  foliage — a  tree 
chosen,  doubtless,  for  its  rapid  growth,  as  the  best  means  of 
getting  up  a  shade  at  the  shortest  notice.  Here  and  there 
were  gardens  filled  with  young  fruit-trees ;  among  the 
largest  and  hardiest  in  appearance  was  the  peach-tree, 
which  here  spreads  broad  arid  sturdy  branches,  escapes  the 
diseases  that  make  it  a  short-lived  tree  in  the  Atlantic 
states,  and  produces  fruit  of  great  size  and  richness.  One 
of  my  fellow-passengers  could  hardly  find  adequate  expres- 
sions to  signify  his  high  sense  of  the  deliciousness  of  the 
Cleveland  peaches. 

I  made  my  way  to  a  street  of  shops  :  it  had  a  busy  ap- 
pearance, more  so  than  usual,  I  was  told,  for  a  company  of 
circus-riders,  whose  tents  I  had  seen  from  a  distance  on  the 
lake,  was  in  town,  and  this  had  attracted  a  throng  of  people 
from  the  country.  I  saw  a  fruit-stall  tended  by  a  man  who 
had  the  coarsest  red  hair  I  think  I  ever  saw,  and  of  whom 
I  bought  two  or  three  enormous  "bough  apples,"  as  he 
called  them.  He  apologized  for  the  price  he  demanded. 
21* 


Z4O  I.KTTEUS    UF     A     TRAVELLER. 

"  The  farmers,"  said  he,  "  know  that  just  now  there  is  a 
call  for  their  early  fruit,  while  the  circus  people  are  in  town, 
and  they  make  me  pay  a  'igh  price  for  it."  I  told  him  I 
perceived  he  was  no  Yankee.  "  I  am  a  Londoner,"  he 
replied  ;  "  and  I  left  London  twelve  years  ago  to  slave  and 
be  a  poor  man  in  Ohio."  He  acknowledged,  however,  that 
he  had  two  or  three  times  got  together  some  property,  "  but 
the  Lord,"  he  said,  "  laid  his  hand  on  it." 

On  returning  to  the  steamer,  I  found  a  party  of  country 
people,  mostly  young  persons  of  both  sexes,  thin  and  lank 
figures,  by  no  means  equal,  as  productions  of  the  country,  to 
their  bough  apples.  They  passed  through  the  fine  spacious 
cabin  on  the  upper  deck,  extending  between  the  state-rooms 
the  whole  length  of  the  steamer.  At  length  they  came  to 
a  large  mirror,  which  stood  at  the  stern,  and  seemed  by  its 
reflection  to  double  the  length  of  the  cabin.  They  walked 
on,  as  if  they  would  extend  their  promenade  into  the  mirror, 
when  suddenly  observing  the  reflection  of  their  own  persons 
advancing,  and  thinking  it  another  party,  they  politely  made 
way  to  let  it  pass.  The  party  in  the  mirror  at  the  same 
moment  turned  to  the  same  side,  which  first  showed  them 
the  mistake  they  had  made.  The  passengers  had  some 
mirth  at  their  expense,  but  I  must  do  our  visitors  the  justice 
to  say  that  they  joined  in  the  laugh  with  a  very  good 
grace. 

The  same  evening,  at  twelve  o'clock,  we  were  at  Detroit. 
"  You  must  lock  your  state-rooms  in  the  night,"  said  one  of 


LAKE     ST.      C  LAIR.  217 

the  persons  employed  about  the  vessel,  "  for  Detroit  is  full 
of  thieves."  We  followed  the  advice,  slept  soundly,  and 
saw  nothing  of  the  thieves,  nor  of  Detroit  either,  for  the 
steamboat  was  again  on  her  passage  through  Lake  St.  Glair 
nl  three  this  morning,  and  when  I  awoke  we  were  moving 
c-ver  the  flats,  as  they  are  called,  at  the  upper  end  of  the 
lake.  The  steamer  was  threading  her  way  in  a  fog  be- 
1  ween  large  patches  of  sedge  of  a  pea-green  color.  We  had 
waited  several  hours  at  Detroit,  because  this  passage  is  not 
safe  at  night,  and  steamers  of  a  larger  size  are  sometimes 
grounded  here  in  the  day-time. 

I  had  hoped,  when  I  began,  to  bring  down  the  narrative 
of  ray  voyage  to  this  moment,  but  my  sheet  is  full,  and  I 
shall  give  you  the  remainder  in  another  letter. 


248  LETTEB.S     OF    A     TRAVELLER. 


LETTER  XXXI. 

A    TRIP    FROM    DETROIT     TO     MACKINAW. 

STEAMER  OREGON,  Lake  Michigan,  j 
July  25,  1846.  j" 

SOON  after  passing  the  flats  described  in  my  last  letter, 
and  entering  the  river  St.  Clair,  the  steamer  stopped  to  take 
in  wood  on  the  Canadian  side.  Here  I  went  on  shore. 
All  that  we  could  see  of  the  country  was  a  road  along  the 
bank,  a  row  of  cottages  at  a  considerable  distance  from  each 
other  along  the  road,  a  narrow  belt  of  cleared  fields  behind 
them,  and  beyond  the  fields  the  original  forest  standing  like 
a  long  lofty  wall,  with  its  crowded  stems  of  enormous  size 
and  immense  height,  rooted  in  the  strong  soil — ashes  and 
maples  and  elms,  the  largest  of  their  species.  Scattered  in 
the  foreground  were  numbers  of  leafless  elms,  so  huge  that 
the  settlers,  as  if  in  despair  of  bringing  them  to  the  ground 
by  the  ax,  had  girdled  them  and  left  them  to  decay  and 
fall  at  their  leisure. 

We  went  up  to  one  of  the  houses,  before  which  stood 
several  of  the  family  attracted  to  the  door  by  the  sight  of 
our  steamer.  Among  them  was  an  intelligent-looking  man, 


CHIPPEWA     INDIANS.  249 

originally  from  the  state  of  New  York,  who  gave  quick  and 
shrewd  answers  to  our  inquiries.  He  told  us  of  an  Indian 
settlement  about  twenty  miles  further  up  the  St.  Glair. 
Here  dwell  a  remnant  of  the  Chippewa  tribe,  collected  by 
the  Canadian  government,  which  has  built  for  them  com- 
fortable log-houses  with  chimneys,  furnished  them  with 
horses  and  neat  cattle,  and  utensils  of  agriculture,  erected  a 
house  of  worship,  and  given  them  a  missionary.  "  The 
design  of  planting  them  here,"  said  th  esettler,  "  was  to  en- 
courage them  to  cultivate  the  soil." 

"  And  what  has  been  the  success  of  the  plan  ?"  I  asked. 

"  It  has  met  with  no  success  at  all,"  he  answered.  "  The 
worst  thing  that  the  government  could  do  for  these  people 
is  to  give  them  every  thing  as  it  has  done,  and  leave  them 
under  no  necessity  to  provide  for  themselves.  They  chop 
over  a  little  land,  an  acre  or  two  to  a  family  ;  their  squaws 
plant  a  little  corn  and  a  few  beans,  and  this  is  the  extent 
of  their  agriculture.  They  pass  their  time  in  hunting  and 
fishing,  or  in  idleness.  They  find  deer  and  bears  in  the 
woods  behind  them,  and  fish  in  the  St.  Glair  before  their 
doors,  and  they  squander  their  yearly  pensions.  In  one 
respect  they  are  just  like  white  men,  they  will  not  work  if 
they  can  live  without." 

"  What  fish  do  they  find  in  the  St.  Glair  ?" 

"  Various  sorts.  Trout  and  white-fish  are  the  finest,  but 
they  are  not  so  abundant  at  this  season.  Sturgeon  and 
pike  are  just  now  in  season,  and  the  pike  are  excellent." 


250  LETTERS    OF     A    TRAVELLER. 

One  of  us  happening  to  observe  that  the  river  might 
easily  be  crossed  by  swimming,  the  settler  answered  : 

"  Not  so  easily  as  you  might  think.  The  river  is  as  cold 
as  a  well,  and  the  swimmer  would  soon  be  chilled  through, 
and  perhaps  taken  with  the  cramp.  It  is  this  coldness  of 
the  water  which  makes  the  fish  so  fine  at  this  season." 

This  mention  of  sturgeons  tempts  me  to  relate  an  anec- 
dote which  I  heard  as  I  was  coming  up  the  Hudson.  A 
gentleman  who  lived  east  of  the  river,  a  little  back  of  Tivoli, 
caught  last  spring  one  of  these  fish,  which  weighed  about  a 
hundred  and  sixty  pounds.  He  carried  it  to  a  large  pond 
near  his  house,  the  longest  diameter  of  which  is  about  a 
mile,  and  without  taking  it  out  of  the  net  in  which  he  had 
caught  it,  he  knotted  part  of  the  meshes  closely  around  it, 
and  attaching  them  to  a  pair  of  lines  like  reins,  put  the 
creature  into  the  water.  To  the  end  of  the  lines  he  had 
taken  care  to  attach  a  buoy,  to  mark  the  place  of  the  fish 
in  the  pond.  He  keeps  a  small  boat,  and  when  he  has  a 
mind  to  make  a  water-excursion,  he  rows  to  the  place  where 
the  buoy  is  floating,  ties  the  lines  to  the  boat  and,  pul- 
ling them  so  as  to  disturb  the  fish,  is  drawn  backward 
and  forward  with  great  rapidity  over  the  surface.  The 
pond,  in  its  deepest  part,  has  only  seven  feet  water,  so  that 
there  is  no  danger  of  being  dragged  under. 

We  now  proceeded  up  the  river,  and  in  about  two  hours 
came  to  a  neat  little  village  on  the  British  side,  with  a 
windmill,  a  little  church,  and  two  or  three  little  cottages, 


A     CHIPPEWA     VILLAGE.  251 

prettily  screened  by  young  trees.  Immediately  beyond  this 
was  the  beginning  of  the  Chippewa  settlement  of  which  we 
had  been  told.  Log-houses,  at  the  distance  of  nearly  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  from  each  other,  stood  in  a  long  row 
beside  the  river,  with  scattered  trees  about  them,  the  largest 
of  the  forest,  some  girdled  and  leafless,  some  untouched  and 
green,  the  smallest  trees  between  having  been  cut  away. 
Here  and  there  an  Indian  woman,  in  a  blue  dress  and  bare- 
headed, was  walking  along  the  road ;  cows  and  horses 
were  grazing  near  the  houses  ;  patches  of  maize  were  seen, 
tended  in  a  slovenly  manner  and  by  no  means  clear  of 
bushes,  but  nobody  was  at  work  in  the  fields.  Two  females 
came  down  to  the  bank,  with  paddles,  and  put  off  into  the 
river  in  a  birch-bark  canoe,  the  ends  of  which  were  carved 
in  the  peculiar  Indian  fashion.  A  little  beyond  stood  a 
group  of  boys  and  girls  on  the  water's  edge,  the  boys  in  shirts 
and  leggins,  silently  watching  the  steamer  as  it  shot  by 
them.  Still  further  on  a  group  of  children  of  both  sexes, 
seven  in  number,  came  running  with  shrill  cries  down  th< 
bank.  It  was  then  about  twelve  o'clock,  and  the  weathei 
was  extremely  sultry.  The  boys  in  an  instant  threw  off 
their  shirts  and  leggins,  and  plunged  into  the  water  with 
shouts,  but  the  girls  were  in  before  them,  for  they  wore  only 
a  kind  of  petticoat  which  they  did  not  take  off,  but  cast 
themselves  into  the  river  at  once  and  slid  through  the  clear 
water  like  seals. 

This  little  Indian  colony  on  the  edge  of  the  forest   ex- 


252  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

tends  for  several  miles  along  the  river,  where  its  banks 
are  highest  and  best  adapted  to  the  purpose  of  settlement. 
It  ends  at  last  just  below  the  village  which  bears  the 
name  of  Fort  Saranac,  in  the  neighborhood  of  which  I  was 
shown  an  odd-looking  wooden  building,  and  was  told  that 
this  was  the  house  of  worship  provided  for  the  Indians  by 
the  government. 

At  Fort  Huron,  a  village  on  the  American  side,  opposite 
to  Fort  Saranac,  we  stopped  to  land  passengers.  Three 
Indians  made  their  appearance  on  the  shore,  one  of  whom, 
a  very  large  man,  wore  a  kind  of  turban,  and  a  white 
blanket  made  into  a  sort  of  frock,  with  bars  of  black  in  several 
places,  altogether  a  striking  costume.  One  of  this  party,  a 
well-dressed  young  man,  stopped  to  speak  with  somebody  in 
the  crowd  on  the  wharf,  but  the  giant  in  the  turban,  with 
his  companion,  strode  rapidly  by,  apparently  not  deigning 
to  look  at  us,  and  disappeared  in  the  village.  He  was 
scarcely  out  of  sight  when  I  perceived  a  boat  approaching 
the  shore  with  a  curiously  mottled  sail.  As  it  came  nearer 
I  saw  that  it  was  a  quilt  of  patchwork  taken  from  a  bed. 
[n  the  bottom  of  the  boat  lay  a  barrel,  apparently  of  flour, 
a  stout  young  fellow  pulled  a  pair  of  oars,  and  a  slender- 
waisted  damsel,  neatly  dressed,  sat  in  the  stern,  plying  a 
paddle  with  a  de^erity  which  she  might  have  learned  from 
the  Chippewa  ladies,  and  guiding  the  course  of  the  boat 
which  passed  with  great  speed  over  the  water. 

We  were  soon  upon  the  broad  waters  of  Lake  Huron,  and 


MACKINAW.  253 

when  the  evening  closed  upon  us  we  were  already  out  of 
sight  of  land.  The  next  morning  I  was  awakened  by  the 
sound  of  rain  on  the  hurricane  deck.  A  cool  east  wind  was 
blowing.  I  opened  the  outer  door  of  my  state-room,  and 
snufFed  the  air  which  was  strongly  impregnated  with  the 
odor  of  burnt  "leaves  or  grass,  proceeding,  doubtless,  from 
the  burning  of  woods  or  prairies  somewhere  on  the  shores  of 
the  lake.  For  mile  after  mile,  for  hour  after  hour,  as  we 
flew  through  the  mist,  the  same  odor  was  perceptible  :  the 
atmosphere  of  the  lake  was  full  of  it. 

"  Will  it  rain  all  day  ?"  I  asked  of  a  fellow-passenger,  a 
Salem  man,  in  a  white  cravat. 

"  The  clouds  are  thin,"  he  answered  ;  "  the  sun  will  soon 
burn  them  off." 

In  fact,  the  sun  soon  melted  away  the  clouds,  and  before 
ten  o'clock  I  was  shown,  to  the  north  of  us,  the  dim  shore  of 
the  Great  Manitoulin  Island,  with  the  faintly  descried 
opening  called  the  West  Strait,  through  which  a  throng  of 
speculators  in  copper  mines  are  this  summer  constantly 
passing  to  the  Sault  de  Ste.  Marie.  On  the  other  side  was 
the  sandy  isle  of  Bois  Blanc,  the  name  of  which  is  com- 
monly corrupted  into  Bob  Low  Island,  thickly  covered  with 
pines,  and  showing  a  tall  light-house  on  the  point  nearest 
us.  Beyond  another  point  lay  like  a  cloud  the  island  of 
Mackinaw.  I  had  seen  it  once  before,  but  now  the  hazy 
atmosphere  magnified  it  into  a  lofty  mountain  ;  its  limestone 
cliffs  impending  over  the  water  seemed  larger ;  the  white  fort 
22 


254  LETTERS    OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

— white  as  snow — built  from  the  quarries  of  the  island,  looked 
more  commanding,  and  the  rocky  crest  above  it  seemed  almost 
to  rise  to  the  clouds.  There  was  a  good  deal  of  illusion  in  all 
this,  as  we  were  convinced  as  we  came  nearer,  but  Macki- 
naw with  its  rocks  rising  from  the  most  transparent  waters 
that  the  earth  pours  out  from  her  springs,  is  a  stately  object 
in  any  condition  of  the  atmosphere.  The  captain  of  our 
steamer  allowed  us  but  a  moment  at  Mackinaw ;  a  moment 
to  gaze  into  the  clear  waters,  and  count  the  fish  as  they 
played  about  without  fear  twenty  or  thirty  feet  below  our 
steamer,  as  plainly  seen  as  if  they  lay  in  the  air  ;  a  moment 
to  look  at  the  fort  on  the  heights,  dazzling  the  eyes  with  its 
new  whiteness ;  a  moment  to  observe  the  habitations  of 
this  ancient  village,  some  of  which  show  you  roofs  and  walls 
of  red-cedar  bark  confined  by  horizontal  strips  of  wood,  a 
kind  of  architecture  between  the  wigwam  and  the  settler's 
cabin.  A  few  baskets  of  fish  were  lifted  on  board,  in  which 
I  saw  trout  of  enormous  size,  trout  a  yard  in  length,  and 
white-fish  smaller,  but  held  perhaps  in  higher  esteem,  and 
we  turned  our  course  to  the  straits  which  lead  into  Lake 
Michigan. 

I  remember  hearing  a  lady  say  that  she  was  tired  of  im- 
provements, and  only  wanted  to  find  a  place  that  was 
finished,  where  she  might  live  in  peace.  I  think  I  shall 
recommend  Mackinaw  to  her.  I  saw  no  change  in  the 
place  since  my  visit  to  it  five  years  ago.  It  is  so  lucky  as 
to  have  no  back-country,  it  offers  no  advantages  to  specula- 


MACKINAW  255 

tion  of  any  sort ;  it  produces,  it  is  true,  the  finest  potatoes 
in  the  world,  but  none  for  exportation.  It  may,  however, 
on  account  of  its  very  cool  summer  climate,  become  a 
fashionable  watering-place,  in  which  case  it  must  yield  to 
the  common  fate  of  American  villages  and  improve,  as  the 
phrase  is 


256  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 


LETTER   XXXII. 

JOURNEY     FROM    DETROIT     TO    PRINCETON. 

PEINCETON,  Illinois,  July  31,  1846. 

SOON  after  leaving  the  island  of  Mackinaw  we  entered 
the  straits  and  passed  into  Lake  Michigan.  The  odor  of 
burnt  leaves  continued  to  accompany  us,  and  from  the 
western  shore  of  the  lake,  thickly  covered  with  wood,  we 
saw  large  columns  of  smoke,  several  miles  apart,  rising  into 
the  hazy  sky.  The  steamer  turned  towards  the  eastern 
shore,  and  about  an  hour  before  sunset  stopped  to  take  in 
wood  at  the  upper  Maneto  island,  where  we  landed  and 
strolled  into  the  forest.  Part  of  the  island  is  high,  but  this, 
where  we  went  on  shore,  consists  of  hillocks  and  hollows  of 
sand,  like  the  waves  of  the  lake  in  one  of  its  storms,  and 
looking  as  if  successive  storms  had  swept  them  up  from  the 
bottom.  They  were  covered  with  an  enormous  growth  of 
trees  which  must  have  stood  for  centuries.  We  admired 
the  astonishing  transparency  of  the  water  on  this  shore,  the 
clean  sands  without  any  intermixture  of  mud,  the  pebbles 
of  almost  chalky  whiteness,  and  the  stones  in  the  edge  of 
the  lake,  to  which  adhered  no  slime,  nor  green  moss,  nor 
aquatic  weed.  In  the  light-green  depths,  far  down,  but 


SHEBOYGAN.  257 

distinctly  seen,  shoals  of  fish,  some  of  them  of  large  size, 
came  quietly  playing  about  the  huge  hull  of  our  steamer. 

On  the  shore  were  two  log-houses  inhabited  by  woodmen, 
one  of  whom  drew  a  pail  of  water  for  the  refreshment  of 
some  of  the  passengers,  from  a  well  dug  in  the  sand  by  his 
door.  "  It  is  not  so  good  as  the  lake  water,"  said  I,  for  I 
saw  it  was  not  so  clear.  "It  is  colder,  though,"  answered 
the  man  ;  "  but  I  must  say  that  there  is  no  purer  or  sweeter 
water  in  the  world  than  that  of  our  lake." 

Next  morning  we  were  coasting  the  western  shore  of 
Lake  Michigan,  a  high  bank  presenting  a  long  line  of  forest. 
This  was  broken  by  the  little  town  of  Sheboygati,  with  its 
light-house  among  the  shrubs  of  the  bank,  its  cluster  of 
houses  just  built,  among  which  were  two  hotels,  and  its 
single  schooner  lying  at  the  mouth  of  a  river.  You 
probably  never  heard  of  Sheboygan  before ;  it  has  just 
sprung  up  in  the  forests  01  Wisconsin ;  the  leaves  have 
hardly  withered  on  the  trees  that  were  felled  to  make  room 
for  its  houses  ;  but  it  will  make  a  noise  in  the  world  yet. 
"  It  is  the  prettiest  place  on  the  lake,"  said  a  passenger, 
whom  we  left  there,  with  three  chubby  and  healthy 
children,  a  lady  who  had  already  lived  long  enough  at 
Sheboygan  to  be  proud  of  it. 

Further  on  we   came  to    Milwaukie,  which  is   rapidly 

becoming  one  of  the  great  cities  of  the  West.     It  lies  within 

a  semicircle   of  green    pastoral    declivities    sprinkled   with 

scattered  trees,  where  the  future  streets  are  to  be  built. 

22* 


258  L,  E  T  T  E  R  S     O  F     A     T  R  A  V  E  L  L  E  R . 

We  landed  at  a  kind  of  wharf,  formed  by  a  long  platform 
of  plauks  laid  on  piles,  under  which  the  water  flows,  and 
extending  to  some  distance  into  the  lake,  ami  along  which 
a  car,  running  on  a  railway,  took  the  passengers  and  their 
baggage,  and  a  part  of  the  freight  of  the  steamer  to  the 
shore. 

"Will  you  go  up  to  town,  sir?"  was  the  question  with 
which  I  was  saluted  by  the  drivers  of  a  throng  of  vehicles 
of  all  sorts,  as  soon  as  I  reached  the  land.  They  were 
ranged  along  a  firm  sandy  beach  between  the  lake  and  the 
river  of  Milwaukee.  On  one  side  the  light-green  waters  of 
the  lake,  Of  crystalline  clearness,  came  rolling  in  before  the 
wind,  and  on  the  other  the  dark  thick  waters  of  the  river 
lay  still  and  stagnant  in  the  sun.  We  did  not  go  up  to  the 
town,  but  we  could  see  that  it  was  compactly  built,  and  in 
one  quarter  nobly.  A  year  or  two  since  that  quarter  had 
been  destroyed  by  fire,  and  on  the  spot  several  large  and 
lofty  warehouses  had  been  erected,  with  an  hotel  of  the 
largest  class.  They  were  of  a  fine  light-brown  color,  and 
when  I  learned  that  they  were  of  brick,  I  inquired  of  a  by- 
stander if  that  was  the  natural  color  of  the  material. 
"They  are  Milwaukie  brick/'  he  answered,  "and  neither 
painted  nor  stained  ;  and  are  better  brick  besides  than  are 
made  at  the  eastward."  Milwaukie  is  said  to  contain,  at 
present,  about  ten  thousand  inhabitants.  Here  the  belt  of 
forest  that  borders  the  lake  stretches  back  for  several  miles 
to  the  prairies  of  Wisconsin.  "  The  Germans,"  said  a 


CHICAGO.  259 

passenger,  "  are  already  in  the  woods  hacking  at  the  trees, 
and  will  soon  open  the  country  to  the  prairies." 

We  made  a  short  stop  at  Racine,  prettily  situated  on  the 
bank  among  the  scattered  trees  of  an  oak  opening,  and 
another  at  Southport,  a  rival  town  eleven  miles  further 
south.  It  is  surprising  how  many  persons  travel,  as  way- 
passengers,  from  place  to  place  on  the  shores  of  these  lakes. 
Five  years  ago  the  number  was  very  few,  now  they  com- 
prise, at  least,  half  the  number  on  board  a  steamboat  plying 
between  Buffalo  and  Chicago.  When  all  who  travel  from 
Chicago  to  Buffalo  shall  cross  the  peninsula  of  Michigan  by 
the  more  expeditious  route  of  the  railway,  the  Chicago  and 
Buffalo  line  of  steamers,  which  its  owners  claim  to  be  the 
finest  line  in  the  world,  will  still  be  crowded  with  people 
taken  up  or  to  be  set  down  at  some  of  the  intermediate 
towns. 

When  we  awoke  the  next  morning  our  steamer  was  at 
Chicago.  Any  one  who  had  seen  this  place,  as  I  had  done 
five  years  ago,  when  it  contained  less  than  five  thousand 
people,  would  find  some  difficulty  in  recognizing  it  now 
when  its  population  is  more  than  fifteen  thousand.  It  has 
its  long  rows  of  warehouses  and  shops,  its  bustling  streets  ; 
its  huge  steamers,  and  crowds  of  lake-craft,  lying  at  the 
wharves  ;  its  villas  embowered  with  trees  ;  and  its  suburbs, 
consisting  of  the  cottages  of  German  and  Irish  laborers, 
stretching  northward  along  the  lake,  and  westward  into 
the  prairies,  and  widening  every  day.  The  slovenly  and  raw 


260  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER 

appearance  of  a  new  settlement  begins  in  many  parts  to  dis- 
appear. The  Germans  have  already  a  garden  in  a  little 
grove  for  their  holidays,  as  in  their  towns  in  the  old  country, 
and  the  Roman  Catholics  have  just  finished  a  college  for 
the  education  of  those  who  are  to  proselyte  the  West. 

The  day  was  extremely  hot,  and  at  sunset  we  took  a 
little  drive  along  the  belt  of  firm  sand  which  forms  the  bor- 
der of  the  lake.  Light-green  waves  came  to  the  shore  in 
long  lines,  with  a  crest  of  foam,  like  a  miniature  surf,  rolling 
in  from  that  inland  ocean,  and  as.  they  dashed  against  the 
legs  of  the  horses,  and  the  wheels  of  our  carriage,  the  air 
that  played  over  them  was  exceedingly  refreshing. 

When  we  set  out  the  following  day  in  the  stage-coach  for 
Peru,  I  was  surprised  to  see  how  the  settlement  of  Chicago 
had  extended  westward  into  the  open  country.  "  Three 
years  ago,"  said  a  traveller  in  the  coach,  "  it  was  thought 
that  this  prairie  could  neither  be  inhabited  nor  cultivated. 
It  is  so  level  and  so  little  elevated,  that  for  weeks  its  surface 
would  remain  covered  with  water  ;  but  we  have  found  that 
as  it  is  intersected  with  roads,  the  water  either  runs  off  in 
the  ditches  of  the  highways,  or  is  absorbed  into  the  sand 
which  lies  below  this  surface  of  dark  vegetable  mould,  and 
it  is  now,  as  you  perceive,  beginning  to  be  covered  with 
habitations." 

If  you  ever  go  by  the  stage-coach  from  Chicago  to  Peru, 
on  the  Illinois  river,  do  not  believe  the  glozing  tongue  of 
the  agent  who  tells  you  that  you  will  make  the  journey  in 


A     PLUNGE     IN     THE     CANAL.  '2(31 

sixteen  hours.  Double  the  number,  and  you  will  be  nearer 
the  truth.  A  violent  rain  fell  in  the  course  of  the  morning  ; 
the  coach  was  heavily  loaded,  nine  passengers  within,  and 
three  without,  besides  the  driver  ;  the  day  was  hot,  and  the 
horses  dragged  us  slowly  through  the  black  mud,  which 
seemed  to  possess  the  consistency  and  tenacity  of  sticking- 
plaster.  We  had  a  dinner  of  grouse,  which  here  in  certain 
seasons,  are  sold  for  three  cents  apiece,  at  a  little  tavern  on 
the  road  ;  we  had  passed  the  long  green  mound  which  bears 
the  name  of  Mount  Joliet,  and  now,  a  little  before  sunset, 
having  travelled  somewhat  less  than  fifty  miles,  we  were 
about  to  cross  the  channel  of  the  Illinois  canal  for  the 
second  or  third  time. 

There  had  once  been  a  bridge  at  the  crossing-place,  but 
the  water  had  risen  in  the  canal,  and  the  timbers  and 
planks  had  floated  away,  leaving  only  the  stones  which 
formed  its  foundation.  In  attempting  to  ford  the  channel 
the  blundering  driver  came  too  near  the  bridge  ;  the  coach- 
wheels  on  one  side  rose  upon  the  stones,  and  on  the  other 
sank  deep  into  the  mud,  and  we  were  overturned  in  an 
instant.  The  outside  passengers  were  pitched  head-fore- 
most into  the  canal,  and  four  of  those  within  were  lying 
under  water.  We  extricated  ourselves  as  well  as  we  could, 
the  men  waded  out,  the  women  were  carried,  and  when 
we  got  on  shore  it  was  found  that,  although  drenched  with 
water  and  plastered  with  mud,  nobody  was  either  drowned 
or  hint. 


262  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

A  farm  wagon  passing  at  the  moment,  forded  the  canal 
without- the  least  difficulty,  and  taking  the  female  passen- 
gers, conveyed  them  to  the  next  farm-house,  about  a  mile 
distant.  We  got  out  the  baggage,  which  was  completely 
soaked  with  water,  set  up  the  carriage  on  its  wheels,  in 
doing  which  we  had  to  stand  waist  high  in  the  mud  and 
water,  and  reached  the  hospitable  farm-house  about  half- 
past  nine  o'clock.  Its  owner  was  an  emigrant  from  Kinder- 
hook,  on  the  Hudson,  who  claimed  to  be  a  Dutchman  and  a 
Christian,  and  I  have  no  reason  to  doubt  that  he  was  either. 
His  kind  family  made  us  free  of  their  house,  and  we  passed 
the  night  in  drying  ourselves,  and  getting  our  baggage  ready 
to  proceed  the  next  day. 

We  travelled  in  a  vehicle  built  after  the  fashion  of  the 
English  post-coach,  set  high  upon  springs,  which  is  the  most 
absurd  kind  of  carriage  for  the  roads  of  this  country  that 
could  be  devised.  Those  stage-wagons  which  ply  on  Long 
Island,  in  one  of  which  you  sometimes  see  about  a  score  of 
Quakers  and  Quakeresses,  present  a  much  better  model. 
Besides  being  tumbled  into  the  canal,  we  narrowly  escaped 
being  overturned  in  a  dozen  other  places,  where  the  mud 
was  deep  or  the  roads  uneven. 

In  my  journey  the  next  day,  I  was  struck  with  the  dif- 
ference which  five  years  had  made  in  the  aspect  of  the 
country.  Frame  or  brick  houses  in  many  places  had 
taken  the  places  of  log-cabins  ;  the  road  for  long  distances 
now  passed  between  fences,  the  broad  prairie,  inclosed,  was 


ECT    OF    THE    COUNTRY.        263 

turned  into  immense  fields  of  maize,  oats,  and  wheat,  and 
was  spotted  here  and  there  with  young  orchards,  or  little 
groves,  and  clumps  of  bright-green  locust-trees,  and  where 
the  prairie  remained  open,  it  was  now  depastured  by  large 
herds  of  cattle,  its  herbage  shortened,  and  its  flowers  less 
numerous.  The  wheat  harvest  this  year  is  said  to  have 
failed  in  northern  Illinois.  The  rust  has  attacked  the  fields 
which  promised  the  fairest,  and  they  are  left  unreaped,  to 
feed  the  quails  and  the  prairie-hens. 

Another  tedious  day's  journey,  over  a  specially  bad  road, 
brought  us  to  Peru  a  little  before  midnight,  and  we-passed 
the  rest  of  the  night  at  an  inn  just  below  the  bank,  on  the 
margin  of  the  river,  in  listening  to  the  mosquitoes.  A  Mas- 
sachusetts acquaintance  the  next  morning  furnished  us  with 
a  comfortable  conveyance  to  this  pleasant  neighborhood. 


264  LETTERS    OF     A     TRAVELLER. 


LETTER    XXXIII. 

RETURN    TO    CHICAGO. 

CHICAGO,  August  8,  1846. 

You  may  be  certain  that  in  returning  to  this  place  from 
Princeton  I  did  not  take  the  stage  coach.  I  had  no  fancy 
for  another  plunge  into  the  Illinois  canal,  nor  for  being 
overturned  upon  the  prairies  in  one  of  those  vehicles  which 
seem  to  be  set  high  in  the  air  in  order  they  may  more  easily 
lose  their  balance.  We  procured  a  private  conveyance  and 
made  the  journey  in  three  days — three  days  of  extreme 
heat,  which  compelled  us  to  travel  slowly.  The  quails, 
which  had  repaired  for  shade  to  the  fences  by  the  side  of  the 
road,  ran  from  them  into  the  open  fields,  as  we  passed,  with 
their  beaks  open,  as  if  panting  with  the  excessive  heat. 

The  number  of  these  birds  at  the  present  time  is  very 
great.  They  swarm  in  the  stubble  fields  and  in  the  prairies, 
and  manifest  little  alarm  at  the  approach  of  man.  Still 
more  numerous,  it  appears  to  me,  are  the  grouse,  or  prairie- 
hens,  as  they  call  them  here,  which  we  frequently  saw  walk- 
ing leisurely,  at  our  approach,  into  the  grass  from  the  road, 
whither  they  resorted  for  the  sake  of  scattered  grains  of  oats 
or  wheat  that  had  fallen  from  the  loaded  wagons  going  to 


PRAIRIE-HENS.  265 

Chicago.  At  this  season  they  are  full  fed  and  fearless,  and 
fly  heavily  when  they  are  started.  We  frequently  saw 
them  feeding  at  a  very  short  distance  from  people  at  work 
in  the  fields.  In  some  neighborhoods  they  seem  almost  as 
numerous  as  fowls  in  a  poultry-yard.  A  settler  goes  out 
with  his  gun,  and  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  brings  in  half  a 
dozen  birds  which  in  the  New  York  market  would  cost 
two  dollars  a  pair.  At  one  place  where  we  stopped  to  dine, 
they  gave  us  a  kind  of  pie  which  seemed  to  me  an  appro- 
priate dessert  for  a  dinner  of  prairie-hens.  It  was  made  of 
the  fruit  of  the  western  crab-apple,  and  was  not  unpalatable. 
The  wild  apple  of  this  country  is  a  small  tree  growing  in 
thickets,  natural  orchards.  In  spring  it  is  profusely  covered 
with  light-pink  blossoms,  which  have  the  odor  of  violets, 
and  at  this  season  it  is  thickly  hung  with  fruit  of  the  color 
of  its  leaves. 

Another  wild  fruit  of  the  country  is  the  plum,  which  grows 
in  thickets,  plum-patches,  as  they  are  called,  where  they 
are  produced  in  great  abundance,  and  sometimes,  I  am  told, 
of  excellent  quality.  In  a  drive  which  I  took  the  other  day 
from  Princeton  to  the  alluvial  lands  of  the  Bureau  River,  I 
passed  by  a  declivity  where  the  shrubs  were  red  with  the 
fruit,  just  beginning  to  ripen.  The  slope  was  sprinkled  by 
them  with  crimson  spots,  and  the  odor  of  the  fruit  was 
quite  agreeable.  I  have  eaten  worse  plums  than  these 
from  our  markets,  but  I  hear  that  there  is  a  later  variety, 
larger  and  of  a  yellow  color,  which  is  finer. 
23 


266  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

I  spoke  iii  my  last  of  the  change  caused  iii  the  atpict  of 
the  country  by  cultivation.  Now  and  then,  however,  you 
meet  with  views  which  seem  to  have  lost  nothing  of  their 
original  beauty.  One  such  we  stopped  to  look  at  from  an 
eminence  in  a  broad  prairie  in  Lee  county,  between  Knox 
Grove  and  Pawpaw  Grove.  The  road  passes  directly  over 
the  eminence,  which  is  round  and  regular  in  form,  with  a 
small  level  on  the  summit,  and  bears  the  name  of  the 
Mound.  On  each  side  the  view  extends  to  a  prodigious  dis- 
tance ;  the  prairies  sink  into  basins  of  immense  breadth  and 
rise  into  swells  of  vast  extent  ;  dark  groves  stand  in  the 
light-green  waste  of  grass,  and  a  dim  blue  border,  ap- 
parently of  distant  woods,  encircles  the  horizon.  To  give 
a  pastoral  air  to  the  scene,  large  herds  of  cattle  were  gra- 
zing at  no  great  distance  from  us. 

I  mentioned  in  my  last  letter  that  the  wheat  crop  of 
northern  Illinois  has  partially  failed  this  year.  But  this 
is  not  the  greatest  calamity  which  has  befallen  this  part 
of  the  country.  The  season  is  uncommonly  sickly.  We 
passed  the  first  night  of  our  journey  at  Pawpaw  Grove — so 
named  from  the  number  of  pawpaw-trees  which  grow  in  it, 
but  which  here  scarcely  find  the  summer  long  enough  to 
perfect  their  fruit.  The  place  has  not  had  the  reputation  of 
being  unhealthy,  but  now  there  was  scarce  a  family  in  the 
neighborhood  in  which  one  or  more  was  not  ill  with  an  in- 
termittent or  a  bilious  fever.  At  the  inn  where  we  stopped, 
the  landlady,  a  stout  Pennsylvania  woman,  was  just  so 


A     SICKLY     SEASON.  267 

far  recovered  as  to  be  able,  as  she  informed  us,  "  to  poke 
about ;"  and  her  daughter,  a  strapping  lass,  went  out  to  pass 
the  night  at  the  bedside  of  one  of  the  numerous  sick  neigh- 
bors. The  sickness  was  ascribed  by  the  settlers  to  the 
extremely  dry  and  hot  weather  following  a  rainy  June.  At 
almost  every  place  where  we  stopped  we  heard  similar 
accounts.  Pale  and  hollow-eyed  people  were  lounging 
about.  "  Is  the  place  unhealthy,"  I  asked  one  of  them. 
"  /reckon  so,"  he  answered  ;  and  his  looks  showed  that  he 
had  sufficient  reason.  At  Aurora,  where  we  passed  the 
second  night,  a  busy  little  village,  with  mills  and  manufac- 
tories, on  the  Fox  River,  which  here  rushes  swiftly  over  a 
stony  bed,  they  confessed  to  the  fever  and  ague.  At  Na- 
perville,  pleasantly  situated  among  numerous  groves  and 
little  prairies  swelling  into  hills,  we  heard  that  the  season 
was  the  most  sickly  the  inhabitants  had  known.  Here,  at 
Chicago,  which  boasts,  and  with  good  reason,  I  believe,  of 
its  healthy  site,  dysenteries  and  bilious  attacks  are  just 
now  very  common,  with  occasional  cases  of  fever. 

It  is  a  common  remark  in  this  country,  that  the  first  culti- 
vation of  the  earth  renders  any  neighborhood  more  or  less 
unhealthy.  "  Nature,"  said  a  western  man  to  me,  some 
years  since,  "  resents  the  violence  done  her,  and  punishes 
those  who  first  break  the  surface  of  the  earth  with  the 
plough."  The  beautiful  Rock  River  district,  with  its  rapid 
stream,  its  noble  groves,  its  banks  disposed  in  natural  ter- 
races, with  fresh  springs  gushing  at  their  foot,  and  airy 


268  LETTERS     OF     A     TUAVEL.hi.il. 

prairies  stretching  away  from  their  summits,  was  esteemed 
one  of  the  most  healthy  countries  iu  the  world  as  long  as  it 
had  but  few  inhabitants.  With  the  breaking  up  of  the  soil 
came  in  bilious  fever  and  intermittents.  A  few  years  of 
cultivation  will  render  the  country  more  healthy,  and  these 
diseases  will  probably  disappear,  as  they  have  done  in  some 
parts  of  western  New  York.  I  can  remember  the  time 
when  the  "  Genesee  Country,"  as  it  was  called,  was  thought 
quite  a  sickly  region — a  land  just  in  the  skirts  of  the  shadow 
of  death.  It  is  now  as  healthy,  I  believe,  as  any  part  of  the 
state. 


IMSA  I'POrXTMENT.  2G9 


LETTER    XXXIV. 

VOYAGE     TO    SAULT    STE. MARIF 

SAULT  STE.  MARIE,  August  13,  1846. 

WHEN  we  left  Chicago  in  the  steamer,  the  other  morning, 
all  the  vessels  in  the  port  had  their  flags  displayed  at  half- 
mast  in  token  of  dissatisfaction  with  the  fate  of  the  harbor 
bill.  You  may  not  recollect  that  the  bill  set  apart  half  a 
million  of  dollars  for  the  construction  or  improvement  of 
various  harbors  of  the  lakes,  and  authorized  the  deepening 
of  the  passages  through  the  St.  Clair  Flats,  now  intricate 
and  not  quite  safe,  by  which  these  bulky  steamers  make 
their  way  from  the  lower  lakes  to  the  upper.  The  people 
of  the  lake  region  had  watched  the  progress  of  the  bill 
through  Congress  with  much,  interest  and  anxiety,  and 
congratulated  each  other  when  at  length  it  received  a 
majority  of  votes  in  both  houses.  The  President's  veto  has 
turned  these  congratulations  into  expressions  of  disappoint- 
ment which  are  heard  on  all  sides,  sometimes  expressed 
with  a  good  deal  of  energy.  But,  although  the  news  of  the 
veto  reached  Chicago  two  or  three  days  before  we  left  the 
place,  nobody  had  seen  the  message  in  which  it  was  con- 
tained. Perhaps  the  force  of  the  President's  reasonings  will 
23* 


27C  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

reconcile  the  minds  of  people  here  to  the  disappointment  of 
their  hopes. 

It  was  a  hot  August  morning  as  the  steamer  Wisconsin, 
an  unwieldy  bulk,  dipping  and  bobbing  upon  the  small 
waves,  and  trembling  at  every  stroke  of  the  engine,  swept 
out  into  the  lake.  The  southwest  wind  during  the  warmer 
portion  of  the  summer  months  is  a  sort  of  Sirocco  in  Illi- 
nois. It  blows  with  considerable  strength,  but  passing 
over  an  immense  extent  of  heated  plains  it  brings  no  cool- 
ness. It  was  such  an  air  that  accompanied  us  on  our  way 
north  from  Chicago  ;  and  as  the  passengers  huddled  into 
the  shady  places  outside  of  the  state-rooms  on  the  upper 
deck,  I  thought  of  the  flocks  of  quails  I  had  seen  gasping  in 
the  shadow  of  the  rail-fences  on  the  prairies. 

People  here  expose  themselves  to  a  draught  of  air  with 
much  less  scruple  than  they  do  in  the  Atlantic  states. 
"  We  do  not  take  cold  by  it,"  they  said  to  me,  when  I  saw 
them  sitting  in  a  current  of  wind,  after  perspiring  freely. 
If  they  do  not  take  cold,  it  is  odds  but  they  take  something 
else,  a  fever  perhaps,  or  what  is  called  a  bilious  attack. 
The  vicissitudes  of  climate  at  Chicago  and  its  neighborhood 
are  more  sudden  and  extreme  than  with  us,  but  the  in- 
habitants say  that  they  are  not  often  the  cause  of  catarrhs, 
as  in  the  Atlantic  states.  Whatever  may  be  the  cause,  I 
have  met  with  no  person  since  I  came  to  the  West,  who 
appeared  to  have  a  catarrh.  From  this  region  perhaps 
will  hereafter  proceed  singers  with  the  clearest  pipes. 


LITTLE     FORT.  271 

Some  forty  miles  beyond  Chicago  we  stopped  for  half  an 
hour  at  Little  Fort,  one  of  those  flourishing  little  towns 
which  are  springing  up  on  the  lake  shore,  to  besiege  future 
Congresses  for  money  to  build  their  harbors.  This  settle 
ment  has  started  up  in  the  woods  within  the  last  three  or 
four  years,  and  its  cluster  of  roofs,  two  of  the  broadest  of 
which  cover  respectable-looking  hotels,  already  makes  a 
considerable  figure  when  viewed  from  the  lake.  We  passed 
to  the  shore  over  a  long  platform  of  planks  framed  upon 
two  rows  of  posts  or  piles  planted  in  the  sandy  shallows. 
"  We  make  a  port  in  this  manner  on  any  part  of  the 
western  shore  of  the  lake,"  said  a  passenger,  "  and  con- 
venient ports  they  are,  except  in  very  high  winds.  On  the 
eastern  shore,  the  coast  of  Michigan,  they  have  not  this 
advantage ;  the  ice  and  the  northwest  winds  would  rend 
such  a  wharf  as  this  in  pieces.  On  this  side  too,  the  water 
of  the  lake,  except  when  an  east  wind  blows,  is  smoother 
than  on  the  Michigan  coast,  and  the  steamers  therefore  keep 
under  the  shelter  of  this  bank." 

At  South/port,  still  further  north,  in  the  new  state  of 
Wisconsin,  we  procured  a  kind  of  omnibus  and  were  driven 
over  the  town,  which,  for  a  new  settlement,  is  uncommonly 
pretty.  We  crossed  a  narrow  inlet  of  the  lake,  a  creek  in 
the  proper  sense  of  the  term,  a  winding  channel,  with  water 
in  the  midst,  and  a  rough  growth  of  water-flags  and  sedges 
en  the  sides.  Among  them  grew  the  wild  rice,  its  bending 
spikes,  heavy  with  grain,  almost  ready  for  the  harvest. 


272  LETTERS    OF    A    TRAVELLER. 

"  In  the  northern  marshes  of  Wisconsin,"  said  one  of  our 
party,  "  I  have  seen  the  Indian  women  gathering  this  grain. 
Two  of  them  take  their  places  in  a  canoe ;  one  of  them 
seated  in  the  stern  pushes  it  with  her  paddle  through  the 
shallows  of  standing  water,  while  the  other,  sitting  forward, 
bends  the  heads  of  the  rice-plant  over  the  sides  of  the  canoe, 
strikes  them  with  a  little  stick  and  causes  the  grain  to  fall 
within  it.  In  this  way  are  collected  large  quantities, 
which  serve  as  the  winter  food  of  the  Menomonies,  and 
£ome  other  tribes."  The  grain  of  the  wild  rice,  I  was  told, 
is  of  a  dark  color,  but  palatable  as  food.  The  gentleman 
who  gave  me  this  account  had  made  several  attempts  to 
procure  it  in  a  fit  state  to  be  sown,  for  Judge  Buel,  of 
Albany,  who  was  desirous  of  trying  its  cultivation  on  the 
grassy  shallows  of  our  eastern  rivers.  He  was  not  success- 
iul  at  first,  because,  as  soon  as  the  grain  is  collected,  it  is 
kiln-dried  by  the  Indians,  which  destroys  the  vegetative 
principle.  At  length,  however,  he  obtained  and  sent  on  a 
small  quantity  of  the  fresh  rice,  but  it  reached  Judge  Buel 
only  a  short  time  before  his  death,  and  the  experiment 
probably  has  not  been  made. 

On  one  side  of  the  creek  was  a  sloping  bank  of  soms 
height,  where  tall  old  forest  trees  were  growing.  Among 
these  stood  three  houses,  just  built,  and  the  space  between 
them  and  the  water  was  formed  into  gardens  with  regular 
terraces  faced  with  turf.  Another  turn  of  our  vehicle 
brought  us  into  a  public  square,  where  the  oaks  of  the  origi- 


SOUTHPORT.  273 

nal  forest  were  left  standing,  a  miniature  of  the  Champs 
Elysees,  surrounding  which,  among  the  trees,  stand  many 
neat  houses,  some  of  them  built  of  a  drab-colored  brick.  Back 
of  the  town,  we  had  a  glimpse  of  a  prairie  approaching  within 
half  a  mile  of  the  river.  We  were  next  driven  through  a 
street  of  shops,  and  thence  to  our  steamer.  The  streets  of 
Southport  are  beds  of  sand,  and  one  of  the  passengers  who 
professed  to  speak  from  some  experience,  described  the  place 
as  haunted  by  myriads  of  fleas. 

It  was  not  till  about  one  o'clock  of  the  second  night  after 
leaving  Chicago,  that  we  landed  at  Mackinaw,  and  after  an 
infinite  deal  of  trouble  in  getting  our  baggage  together,  and 
keeping  it  together,  we  were  driven  to  the  Mission  House,  a 
plain,  comfortable  old  wooden  house,  built  thirty  or  forty 
years  since,  by  a  missionary  society,  and  now  turned  into  an 
hotel.  Beside  the  road,  close  to  the  water's  edge,  stood 
several  wigwams  of  the  Potawottamies,  pyramids  of  poles 
wrapped  around  with  rush  matting,  each  containing  a 
family  asleep.  The  place  was  crowded  with  people  on 
their  way  to  the  mining  region  of  Lake  Superior,  or  return- 
ing from  it,  and  we  were  obliged  to  content  ourselves  with 
narrow  accommodations  for  the  night. 

At  half-past  seven  the  next  morning  we  were  on  our  way 
to  the  Sault  Ste.  Marie,  in  the  little  steamer  General  Scott. 
The  wind  was  blowing  fresh,  and  a  gpore  of  persons  who 
had  intended  to  visit  the  Sault  were  withheld  by  the  fear  of 
seasickness,  so  that  half  a  dozen  of  us  had  the  steamer  to 


274  LETTERS    OF    A     TRAVELLER. 

ourselves.  In  three  or  four  hours  we  found  ourselves  gli 
ding  out  of  the  lake,  through  smooth  water,  between  two 
low  points  of  land  covered  with  firs  and  pines  into  the  west 
strait.  We  passed  Drummond's  Island,  and  then  coasted 
St.  Joseph's  Island,  on  the  woody  shore  of  which  I  was 
shown  a  solitary  house.  There  I  was  told  lives  a  long- 
nosed  Englishman,  a  half-pay  officer,  with  two  wives, 
sisters,  each  the  mother  of  a  numerous  offspring.  This 
English  polygamist  has  been  more  successful  in  seeking 
solitude  than  in  avoiding  notoriety.  The  very  loneliness  of 
his  habitation  on  the  shore  causes  it  to  be  remarked,  and 
there  is  not  a  passenger  who  makes  the  voyage  to  the  Sault, 
to  whom  his  house  is  not  pointed  out,  and  his  story  related. 
It  was  hinted  to  me  that  he  had  a  third  wife  in  Toronto, 
but  I  have  my  private  doubts  of  this  part  of  the  story,  and 
suspect  that  it  was  thrown  in  to  increase  my  wonder. 

Beyond  the  island  of  St.  Joseph  we  passed  several  islets 
of  rock  with  fir-trees  growing  from  the  clefts.  Here,  in 
summer,  I  was  told,  the  Indians  often  set  up  their  wigwams, 
and  subsist  by  fishing.  There  were  none  in  sight  as  we 
passed,  but  we  frequently  saw  on  either  shore  the  skeletons 
of  the  Chippewa  habitations.  These  consist,  not  like  those 
of  the  Potawottamies,  of  a  circle  of  sticks  placed  in  the  form 
of  a  cone,  but  of  slender  poles  bent  into  circles,  so  as  to 
make  an  almost  regular  hemisphere,  over  which,  while  it 
serves  as  a  dwelling,  birch-bark  and  mats  of  bulrushes  are 
thrown. 


MUDDY     LAKE.  275 

On  the  western  side  of  the  passage,  opposite  to  St.  Jo- 
seph's Island,  stretches  the  long  coast  of  Sugar  Island, 
luxuriant  with  an  extensive  forest  of  the  sugar-maple. 
Here  the  Indians  manufacture  maple-sugar  in  the  spring. 
I  inquired  concerning  their  agriculture. 

"  They  plant  no  corn  nor  squashes,"  said  a  passenger, 
who  had  resided  for  some  time  at  the  Sault ;  "  they  will  not 
ripen  in  this  climate  ;  but  they  plant  potatoes  in  the  sugar- 
bash,  and  dig  them  when  the  spring  opens.  They  have  no 
other  agriculture  ;  they  plant  no  beans  as  I  believe  the  In- 
dians do  elsewhere." 

A  violent  squall  of  wind  and  rain  fell  upon  the  water 
just  as  we  entered  that  broad  part  of  the  passage  which 
bears  the  name  of  Muddy  Lake.  In  ordinary  weather  the 
waters  are  here  perfectly  pure  and  translucent,  but  now 
their  agitation  brought  up  the  loose  earth  from  the  shallow 
bottom,  and  made  them  as  turbid  as  the  Missouri,  with  the 
exception  of  a  narrow  channel  in  the  midst  where  the  cur- 
rent runs  deep.  Rocky  hills  now  began  to  show  themselves 
to  the  east  of  us  ;  we  passed  the  sheet  of  water  known  by 
the  name  of  Lake  George,  and  came  to  a  little  river  which 
appeared  to  have  its  source  at  the  foot  of  a  precipitous  ridge 
on  the  British  side.  It  is  called  Garden  River,  and  a  little 
beyond  it,  on  the  same  side,  lies  Garden  Village,  inhabited 
by  the  Indians.  It  was  now  deserted,  the  Indians  havmg 
gone  to  attend  a  great  assemblage  of  their  race,  held  on  one 
of  the  Manitoulin  Islands,  where  they  are  to  receive  their 


276  LETTERS    OF    A    TRAVELLER. 

annual  payments  from  the  British  government.  Here  were 
log-houses,  and  skeletons  of  wigwams,  from  which  the 
coverings  had  been  taken.  An  Indian,  when  he  travels, 
takes  with  him  his  family  and  his  furniture,  the  matting  for 
his  wigwam,  his  implements  for  hunting  and  fishing,  his 
dogs  and  cats,  and  finds  a  home  wherever  he  finds  poles  for 
a  dwelling.  A  tornado  had  recently  passed  over  the  Garden 
"Village.  The  numerous  girdled-trees  which  stood  on  its 
little  clearing,  had  been  twisted  off  midway  or  near  the 
ground  by  the  wind,  and  the  roofs  had,  in  some  instances, 
been  lifted  from  the  cabins. 

At  length,  after  a  winding  voyage  of  sixty  miles,  between 
wild  banks  of  forest,  in  some  places  smoking  with  fires,  in 
some  looking  as  if  never  violated  either  by  fire  or  steel,  with 
huge  carcasses  of  trees  mouldering  on  the  ground,  and  vene- 
rable trees  standing  over  them,  bearded  with  streaming 
moss,  we  came  in  sight  of  the  white  rapids  of  the  Sault 
Sainte  Marie.  We  passed  the  humble  cabins  of  the  half- 
breeds  on  either  shore,  with  here  and  there  a  round  wigwam 
near  the  water  ;  we  glided  by  a  white  chimney  standing 
behind  a  screen  of  fir-trees,  which,  we  were  told,  had  be- 
longed to  the  dwelling  of  Tanner,  who  himself  set  fire  to  his 
house  the  other  day,  before  murdering  Mr.  Schoolcraft,  and 
in  a  few  minutes  were  at  the  wharf  of  this  remotest  settle- 
ment of  the  northwest. 


THE     COPPER    MINES.  277 


LETTER   XXXV. 

FALLS    OF     THE     ST.     MARY. 

SAULT  STK  MARIE,  August  15,  1846. 

A  CROWD  had  assembled  on  the  wharf  of  the  American 
village  at  the  Sault  Sainte  Marie,  popularly  called  the  Soo, 
to  witness  our  landing  ;  men  of  all  ages  and  complexions, 
in  hats  and  caps  of  every  form  and  fashion,  with  beards  of 
every  length  and  color,  among  which  I  discovered  two  or 
three  pairs  of  mustaches.  It  was  a  party  of  copper-mine 
speculators,  just  flitting  from  Copper  Harbor  and  Eagle 
River,  mixed  with  a  few  Indian  and  half-breed  inhabitants 
of  the  place.  Among  them  I  saw  a  face  or  two  quite 
familiar  in  Wall-street. 

I  had  a  conversation  with  an  intelligent  geologist,  who 
had  just  returned  from  an  examination  of  the  copper  mines 
of  Lake  "Superior.  He  had  pitched  his  tent  in  the  fields 
near  the  village,  choosing  to  pass  the  night  in  this  manner, 
as  he  had  done  for  several  weeks  past,  rather  than  in  a 
crowded  inn.  In  regard  to  the  mines,  he  told  me  that  the 
external  tokens,  the  surface  indications,  as  he  called  them, 
were  more  favorable  than  those  of  any  copper  mines  in  the 
world.  They  are  still,  however,  mere  surface  indications  ; 
24 


278  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER.. 

the  veins  had  not  been  worked  to  that  depth  which  was 
necessary  to  determine  their  value  with  any  certainty.  The 
mixture  of  silver  with  the  copper  he  regarded  as  not  giving 
any  additional  value  to  the  mines,  inasmuch  as  it  is  only 
occasional  and  rare.  Sometimes,  he  told  me,  a  mass  of 
metal  would  be  discovered  of  the  size  of  a  man's  fist,  or 
smaller,  composed  of  copper  and  silver,  both  metals  closely 
united,  yet  both  perfectly  pure  and  unalloyed  with  each 
other.  The  masses  of  virgin  copper  found  in  beds  of  gravel 
are,  however,  the  most  remarkable  feature  of  these  mines. 
One  of  them  which  has  been  discovered  this  summer,  but 
which  has  not  been  raised,  is  estimated  to  weigh  twenty 
tons.  I  saw  in  the  propeller  Independence,  by  which  this 
party  from  the  copper  mines  was  brought  down  to  the 
Sault,  one  of  these  masses,  weighing  seventeen  hundred  and 
fifty  pounds,  with  the  appearance  of  having  once  been  fluid 
with  heat.  It  was  so  pure  that  it  might  have  been  cut  in 
pieces  by  cold  steel  and  stamped  at  once  into  coin. 

Two  or  three  years  ago  this  settlement  of  the  Sault  de  Ste. 
Marie,  was  but  a  military  post  of  the  United  States,  in  the 
midst  of  a  village  of  Indians  and  half-breeds.  There  were, 
perhaps,  a  dozen  white  residents  in  the  place,  including  the 
family  of  the  Baptist  Missionary  and  the  agent  of  the  Amer- 
ican Fur  Company,  which  had  removed  its  station  hither 
from  Mackinaw,  and  built  its  warehouse  on  this  river.  But 
since  the  world  has  begun  to  talk  of  the  copper  mines  of 
Lake  Superior,  settlers  flock  into  the  place  ;  carpenters  are 


DRUNKEN    INDIANS.  279 

busy  in  knocking  up  houses  with  all  haste  on  the  govern- 
ment lands,  and  large  warehouses  have  been  built  ipon 
piles  driven  into  the  shallows  of  the  St.  Mary.  Five 
years  hence,  the  primitive  character  of  the  place  will  be- 
altogether  lost,  and  it  will  have  become  a  bustling  Yanket 
town,  resembling  the  other  new  settlements  of  the  West 

Here  the  navigation  from  lake  to  lake  is  interrupted  by 
the  falls  or  rapids  of  the  river  St.  Mary,  from  which  the 
place  receives  its  name.  The  crystalline  waters  of  Lake 
Superior  on  their  way  through  the  channel  of  this  river  to 
Lake  Huron,  here  rush,  and  foam,  and  roar,  for  about  three 
quarters  of  a  mile,  over  rocks  and  large  stones. 

Close  to  the  rapids,  with  birchen-canoes  moored  in  little 
inlets,  is  a  village  of  the  Indians,  consisting  of  log-cabins 
and  round  wigwams,  on  a  shrubby  level,  reserved  to  them 
by  the  government.  The  morning  after  our  arrival,  we 
went  through  this  village  in  search  of  a  canoe  and  a  couple 
of  Indians,  to  make  the  descent  of  the  rapids,  which  is  one 
of  the  first  things  that  a  visitor  to  the  Sault  must  think  of. 
In  the  first  wigwam  that  we  entered  were  three  men  and  two 
women  as  drunk  as  men  and  women  could  well  be.  The 
squaws  were  speechless  and  motionless,  too  far  -gone,  as  it 
seemed,  to  raise  either  hand  or  foot ;  the  men  though  appa- 
rently unable  to  rise  were  noisy,  and  one  of  them,  who 
called  himself  a  half-breed  and  spoke  a  few  words  of  En- 
glish, seemed  disposed  to  quarrel.  Before  the  next  door  was 
a  woman  busy  in  washing,  who  spoke  a  little  English. 


280  LETTERS    OF    A    TRAVELLER. 

"  The  old  man  out  there,"  she  said,  in.  answer  to  our  ques- 
tions, "  can  paddle  canoe,  but  he  is  very  drunk,  he  can  not 
do  it  to-day." 

"  Is  there  nobody  else,"  we  asked,  "  who  will  take  us 
down  the  falls  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  ;  the  Indians  all  drunk  to-day." 

"  Why  is  that  ?  why  are  they  all  drunk  to-day  ?" 

"  Oh,  the  whisky,"  answered  the  woman,  giving  us  to 
understand,  that  when  an  Indian  could  get  whisky,  he  got 
drunk  as  a  matter  of  course. 

By  this  time  the  man  had  come  up,  and  after  addressing 
us  with  the  customary  "  bon  jour"  manifested  a  curiosity 
to  know  the  nature  of  our  errand.  The  woman  explained 
it  to  him  in  English. 

"  Oh,  messieurs,  je  vous  servirai,"  said  he,  for  he  spoke 
Canadian  French  ;  "  I  go,  I  go." 

We  told  him  that  we  doubted  whether  he  was  quite  sober 
enough. 

"  Oh,  messieurs,  je  suis  parfaitement  capable — first  rate, 
first  rate." 

We  shook  him  ofF  as  soon  as  we  could,  but  not  till  after 
he  had  time  to  propose  that  we  should  wait  till  the  next 
day,  and  to  utter  the  maxim,  "  Whisky,  good — too  much 
whisky,  no  good." 

In  a  log-cabin,  which  some  half-breeds  were  engaged  in 
building,  we  found  two  men  who  were  easily  persuaded  to 
leave  their  work  and  pilot  us  over  the  rapids.  They  took 


DESCENT     OF     THE     RAPIDS.  281 

one  of  the  canoes  which  lay  in  a  little  inlet  ck  «e  at  hand, 
and  entering  it,  pushed  it  with  their  long  poles  up  the  stream 
in  the  edge  of  the  rapids.  Arriving  at  the  head  of  the 
rapids,  they  took  in  our  party,  which  consisted  of  five,  and 
we  began  the  descent.  At  each  end  of  the  canoe  sat  a  half- 
breed,  with  a  paddle,  to  guide  it  while  the  current  drew  us 
rapidly  down  among  the  agitated  waters.  It  was  surprising 
with  what  dexterity  they  kept  us  in  the  smoothest  part  of 
the  water,  seeming  to  know  the  way  down  as  well  as  if  it 
had  been  a  beaten  path  in  the  fields. 

At  one  time  we  would  seem  to  be  directly  approaching  a 
rock  against  which  the  waves  were  dashing,  at  another  to 
be  descending  into  a  hollow  of  the  waters  in  which  our 
canoe  would  be  inevitably  filled,  but  a  single  stroke  of  the 
paddle  given  by  the  man  at  the  prow  put  us  safely  by  the 
seeming  danger.  So  rapid  was  the  descent,  that  almost  as 
soon  as  we  descried  the  apparent  peril,  it  was  passed.  In 
less  than  ten  minutes,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  we  had  left  the 
roar  of  the  rapids  behind  us,  and  were  gliding  over  the 
smooth  water  at  their  foot. 

In  the  afternoon  we  engaged  a  half-breed  and  his  brother 
to  take  us  over  to  the  Canadian  shore.  His  wife,  a  slender 
young  woman  with  a  lively  physiognomy,  not  easily  to  be 
distinguished  from  a  French  woman  of  her  class,  accompa- 
nied us  in  the  canoe  with  her  little  boy.  The  birch-bark 
canoe  of  the  savage  seems  to  me  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
and  perfect  things  of  the  kind  constructed  by  human  art. 


282          LETTERS  OF  A  TK \VELLER. 

We  were  in  one  of  the  finest  that  float  on  St.  Mary's  river, 
and  when  I  looked  at  its  delicate  ribs,  mere  shavings  of 
white  cedar,  yet  firm  enough  for  the  purpose — the  thin 
broud  laths  of  the  same  wood  with  which  these  are  inclosed, 
and  the  broad  sheets  of  birch-bark,  impervious  to  water, 
which  shv-athed  the  outsiJe,  all  firmly  sewed  together  by 
the  tough  dender  roots  of  the  fir-tree,  and  when  I  consid- 
ered its  extreme  lightness  and  the  grace  of  its  form,  I  could 
not  but  wonder  at  the  ingenuity  of  those  who  had  invented 
so  beautiful  a  combination  of  ship-building  and  basket-work. 
"  It  cost  me  twenty  dollars,"  said  the  half-breed,  "  and  I 
would  not  lake  thirty  for  it." 

We  were  ferried  over  the  waves  where  they  dance  at  the 
foot  of  the  rapids.  At  this  place  large  quantities  of  white- 
fish,  one  of  the  most  delicate  kinds  known  on  our  continent, 
are  caught  by  the  Indians,  in  their  season,  with  scoop-nets. 
The  whites  are  about  to  interfere  with  this  occupation  of  the 
Indians,  and  I  saw  the  other  day  a  seine  of  prodigious 
length  constructing,  with  which  it  is  intended  to  sweep 
nearly  half  the  river  at  once.  "  They  will  take  a  hun- 
dred barrels  a  day,"  said  an  inhabitant  of  the  place. 

On  the  British  side,  the  rapids  divide  themselves  into  half 
a  dozen  noisy  brooks,  which  roar  round  little  islands,  and  in 
the  boiling  pools  of  which  the  speckled  trout  is  caught  with 
the  rod  and  line.  We  landed  at  the  warehouses  of  the 
Hudson  Bay  Company,  where  the  goods  intended  for  the 
Indian  trade  are  deposited,  and  the  furs  brought  from  the 


CANADIAN     HALF-i  REEDS.  283 

northwest  are  collected.  They  are  surrounded  by  a  massive 
stockade,  within  which  lives  the  agent  of  the  Company,  the 
walks  are  graveled  and  well-kept,  and  the  whole  bears  the 
marks  of  British  solidity  and  precision.  A  quantity  of 
furs  had  been  brought  in  the  day  before,  but  they  were 
locked  up  in  the  warehouse,  and  all  was  now  quiet  and 
silent.  The  agent  was  absent ;  a  half-breed  nurse  stood 
at  the  door  with  his  child,  and  a  Scotch  servant,  apparently 
with  nothing  to  do,  was  lounging  in  the  court  inclosed  by 
the  stockade ;  in  short,  there  was  less  bustle  about  this 
centre  of  one  of  the  most  powerful  trading-companies 
in  the  world,  than  about  one  of  our  farm-houses. 

Crossing  the  bay,  at  the  bottom  of  which  these  buildings 
stand,  we  landed  at  a  Canadian  village  of  half-breeds. 
Here  were  one  or  two  wigwams  and  a  score  of  log-cabins, 
some  of  which  we  entered.  In  one  of  them  we  were  re- 
ceived with  great  appearance  of  deference  by  a  woman  of 
decidedly  Indian  features,  but  light-complexioned,  barefoot, 
with  blue  embroidered  leggings  falling  over  her  ankles  and 
sweeping  the  floor,  the  only  peculiarity  of  Indian  costume 
about  her.  The  house  was  as  clean  as  scouring  could  make 
it,  and  her  two  little  children,  with  little  French  physiogno- 
mies, were  fairer  than  many  children  of  the  European  race. 
These  people  are  descended  from  the  French  voyageurs  and 
settlers  on  one  side  ;  they  speak  Canadian  French  more  or 
less,  but  generally  employ  the  Chippewa  language  in  their 
intercourse  with  each  other. 


284  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

Near  at  hand  was  a  burial  ground,  \K  'th  graves  of  the 
Indians  and  half-breeds,  which  we  entered.  Some  of  the 
graves  were  covered  with  a  low  roof  of  cedar-bark,  others 
with  a  wooden  box  ;  over  others  was  placed  a  little  house 
like  a  dog-kennel,  except  that  it  had  no  door,  others  were 
covered  with  little  log-cabins.  One  of  these  was  of  such  a 
size  that  a  small  Indian  family  would  have  found  it  amply 
large  for  their  accommodation.  It  is  a  practice  among  the 
savages  to  protect  the  graves  of  the  dead  from  the  wolves, 
by  stakes  driven  into  the  ground  and  meeting  at  the  top  like 
the  rafters  of  a  roof ;  and  perhaps  when  the  Indian  or  half- 
breed  exchanged  his  wigwam  for  a  log-cabin,  his  respect  for 
the  dead  led  him  to  make  the  same  improvement  in  the  ar- 
chitecture of  their  narrow  houses.  At  the  head  of  most  of 
these  monuments  stood  wooden  crosses,  for  the  population 
here  is  principally  Roman  Catholic,  some  of  them  inscribed 
with  the  names  of  the  dead,  not  always  accurately  spelled. 

Not  far  from  the  church  stands  a  building,  regarded  by 
the  half-breeds  as  a  wonder  of  architecture,  the  stone  house, 
la  maison  de  pierre,  as  they  call  it,  a  large  mansion  built 
of  stone  by  a  former  agent  of  the  Northwest  or  Hudson 
Bay  Company,  who  lived  here  in  a  kind  of  grand  manorial 
style,  with  his  servants  and  horses  and  hounds,  and  gave 
hospitable  dinners  in  those  days  when  it  was  the  fashion  for 
the  host  to  do  his  best  to  drink  his  guests  under  the  table. 
The  old  splendor  of  the  place  has  departed,  its  gardens  are 
overgrown  with  grass,  the  barn  has  been  blown  down,  the 


TANNER     THE     MURDERER.  285 

kitchen  in  which  so  many  grand  dinners  were  cooked  con- 
sumed by  fire,  and  the  mansion,  with  its  broken  and  patch- 
ed windows,  is  now  occupied  by  a  Scotch  farmer  of  the 
name  of  Wilson. 

We  climbed  a  ridge  of  hills  back  of  the  house  to  the 
church  of  the  Episcopal  Mission,  built  a  few  years  ago  as 
a  place  of  worship  for  the  Chippewas,  who  have  since  been 
removed  by  the  government.  It  stands  remote  from  any 
habitation,  with  three  or  four  Indian  graves  near  it,  and  we 
found  it  filled  with  hay.  The  view  from  its  door  is  uncom- 
monly beautiful ;  the  broad  St.  Mary  lying  below,  with  its 
bordering  villages  and  woody  valley,  its  white  rapids  and 
its  rocky  islands,  picturesque  with  the  pointed  summits  of 
the  fir-tree.  To  the  northwest  the  sight  followed  the  river 
to  the  horizon,  where  it  issued  from  Lake  Superior,  and  I 
was  told  that  in  clear  weather  one  might  discover,  from  the 
spot  on  which  I  stood,  the  promontory  of  Gros  Cap,  which 
guards  the  outlet  of  that  mighty  lake. 

The  country  around  was  smoking  in  a  dozen  places  with 
fires  in  the  woods.  When  I  returned  I  asked  who  kindled 
them.  "  It  is  old  Tanner,"  said  one,  "  the  man  who 
murdered  Schoolcraft."  There  is  great  fear  here  of  Tan- 
ner, who  is  thought  to  be  lurking  yet  in  the  neighborhood. 
I  was  going  the  other  day  to  look  at  a  view  of  the  place 
from  an  eminence,  reached  by  a  road  passing  through  a 
swamp,  full  of  larches  and  firs.  "  Are  you  not  afraid  of 
Tanner?"  I  was  asked.  Mrs.  Schoolcraft,  since  the 


286  LETTERS    OF    A     TRAVELLER. 

assassination  of  her  husband,  has  come  to  live  in  the  fort, 
which  consists  of  harracks  protected  hy  a  high  stockade.  It 
is  rumored  that  Tanner  has.  been  seen  skulking  about  within 
a  day  or  two,  and  yesterday  a  place  was  discovered  which 
is  supposed  to  have  served  for  his  retreat.  It  was  a  hollow, 
thickly  surrounded  by  shrubs,  which  some  person  had 
evidently  made  his  habitation  for  a  considerable  time. 
There  is  a  dispute  whether  this  man  is  insane  or  not,  but 
there  is  no  dispute  as  to  his  malignity.  He  has  threatened 
to  take  the  life  of  Mr.  Bingham,  the  venerable  Baptist 
missionary  at  this  place,  and  as  long  as  it  is  not  certain  that 
he  has  left  the  neighborhood  a  feeling  of  insecurity  prevails. 
Nevertheless,  as  I  know  no  reason  why  this  man  should 
take  it  into  his  head  to  shoot  me,  I  go  whither  I  list,  without 
the  fear  of  Tanner  before  my  eyes. 


STEAMEU  DRAGGED  OVER  THE  TOUT  AGE.  287 


LETTER   XXXVI. 

INDIANS    AT    THE    SAULT. 

MACKINAW,  Auyust  19,  1846. 

WE  were  detained  two  days  longer  than  we  expected  at 
the  Sault  de  Ste.  Marie,  by  the  failure  of  the  steamer  Gen- 
eral Scott  to  depart  at  the  proper  time.  If  we  could  have 
found  a  steamer  going  up  Lake  Superior,  we  should  most 
certainly  have  quieted  our  impatience  at  this  delay,  by  em- 
barking on  board  of  her.  But  the  only  steamer  in  the 
river  St.  Mary,  above  the  falls,  which  is  a  sort  of  arm 
or  harbor  of  Lake  -Superior,  was  the  Julia  Palmer,  and  she 
was  lying  aground  in  the  pebbles  and  sand  of  the  shore. 
She  had  just  been  dragged  ever  the  portage  which  passes 
round  the  falls,  where  a  broad  path,  with  hillocks  flattened, 
and  trunks  hewn  off  close  to  the  surface,  gave  tokens  of  the 
vast  bulk  that  had  been  moved  over  it.  The  moment  she 
touched  the  water,  she  stuck  fast,  and  the  engineer  was 
obliged  to  go  to  Cleveland  for  additional  machinery  to  move 
her  forward.  He  had  just  arrived  with  the  proper  appa- 
ratus, and  the  steamer  had  begun  to  work  its  way  slowly 
into  the  deep  water  ;  but  some  days  must  yet  elapse  before 
she  can  float,  and  after  that  the  engine  must  be  put  together. 


288  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

Had  the  Julia  Palmer  been  ready  to  proceed  up  the  lake, 
I  should  certainly  have  seized  the  occasion  to  be  present  at 
an  immense  assemblage  of  Indians  on  Madeleine  Island. 
This  island  lies  far  in  the  lake,  near  its  remoter  extremity. 
On  one  of  its  capes,  called  La  Pointe,  is  a  missionary  station 
and  an  Indian  village,  and  here  the  savages  are  gathering 
in  vast  numbers  to  receive  their  annual  payments  from  the 
United  States. 

"  There  were  already  two  thousand  of  them  at  La  Pointe 
when  I  left  the  place,"  said  an  intelligent  gentleman  who 
had  just  returned  from  the  lake,  "  and  they  were  starving 
If  an  Indian  family  has  a  stock  of  provisions  on  hand 
sufficient  for  a  month,  it  is  sure  to  eat  it  up  in  a  week,  and 
the  Indians  at  La  Pointe  had  already  consumed  all  they  had 
provided,  and  were  living  on  what  they  could  shoot  in  the 
woods,  or  get  by  fishing  in  the  lake." 

I  inquired  of  him  the  probable  number  of  Indians  the  oc- 
casion would  bring  together. 

"  Seven  thousand,"  he  answered.  "  Among  them  are 
some  of  the  wildest  tribes  on  the  continent,  whose  habits 
have  been  least  changed  by  the  neighborhood  of  the  white 
man.  A  new  tribe  will  come  in  who  never  before  would 
have  any  transactions  with  the  government.  They  are 
called  the  Pillagers,  a  fierce  and  warlike  race,  proud  of 
their  independence,  and,  next  to  the  Blackfeet  and  the 
Camanches,  the  most  ferocious  and  formidable  tribe  withip 
the  territory  of  the  United  States.  They  inhabit  the 


INDIANS    AT     MADELEINE     ISLAND.  289 

country  about  Red  River  and  the  head-waters  of  the 
Mississippi." 

I  was  further  told  that  some  of  the  Indian  traders  had 
expressed  their  determination  to  disregard  the  law,  set  up 
their  tents  at  La  Pointe,  and  sell  spirits  to  the  savages. 
"  If  they  do,  knives  will  be  drawn,"  was  the  common  saying 
at  the  Sault ;  and  at  the  Fort,  I  learned  that  a  requisition 
had  arrived  from  La  Pointe  for  twenty  men  to  enforce  the 
laAv  and  prevent  disorder.  "  We  can  not  send  half  the  num- 
ber," said  the  officer  who  commanded  at  the  Fort,  "  we 
have  but  twelve  men  in  all  ;  the  rest  of  the  garrison  have 
been  ordered  to  the  Mexican  frontier,  and  it  is  necessary 
that  somebody  should  remain  to  guard  the  public  property." 
The  call  for  troops  has  since  been  transferred  to  the  garrison 
at  Mackinaw,  from  which  they  will  be  sent. 

I  learned  afterward  from  an  intelligent  lady  of  the  half- 
caste  at  the  Sault,  that  letters  had  arrived,  from  which  it 
appeared  that  more  than  four  thousand  Indians  were  already 
assembled  at  La  Pointe,  and  that  their  stock  of  provisions 
was  exhausted. 

"  They  expected,"  said  the  lady,  "to  be  paid  off  on  the 
15th  of  August,  but  the  government  has  changed  the  time 
to  nearly  a  month  later.  This  is  unfortunate  for  the  In- 
dians, for  now  is  the  time  of  their  harvest,  the  season  for 
gathering  wild  rice  iu  the  marshes,  and  they  must,  in  con- 
sequence, not  only  suffer  with  hunger  now,  but  in  the  winter 
also." 


290  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

In  a  stroll  which  we  made  through  the  Indian  village, 
situated  close  to  the  rapids,  we  fell  in  with  a  half-hreed,  a 
sensible-looking  man,  living  in  a  log  cahin,  whose  boys,  the 
offspring  of  a  squaw  of  the  pure  Indian  race,  were  practicing 
with  their  bows  and  arrows.  "  You  do  not  go  to  La 
Pointe  ?"  we  asked.  "  It  is  too  far  to  go  for  a  blanket," 
was  his  answer — he  spoke  tolerable  English.  This  man 
seemed  to  have  inherited  from  the  white  side  of  his  ancestry 
somewhat  of  the  love  of  a  constant  habitation,  for  a  genuine 
Indian  has  no  particular  dislike  to  a  distant  journey.  He 
takes  his  habitation  with  him,  and  is  at  home  wherever 
there  is  game  and  fish,  and  poles  with  which  to  construct 
his  lodge.  In  a  further  conversation  with  the  half-breed, 
he  spoke  of  the  Sault  as  a  delightful  abode,  and  expatiated 
on  the  pleasures  of  the  place. 

"  It  is  the  greatest  place  in  the  world  for  fun,"  said  he  ; 
"  we  dance  all  winter ;  our  women  are  all  good  dancers ; 
our  little  girls  can  dance  single  and  double  jigs  as  good  as 
any  body  in  the  States.  That  little  girl  there,"  pointing  to 
a  long-haired  girl  at  the  door,  "  will  dance  as  good  as  any 
body." 

The  fusion  of  the  two  races  in  this  neighborhood  is  re- 
markable ;  the  mixed  breed  running  by  gradual  shades  into 
the  aboriginal  on  the  one  hand,  and  into  the  white  on  the 
other ;  children  with  a  tinge  of  the  copper  hue  in  the  fami- 
lies of  white  men,  and  children  scarcely  less  fair  sometimes 
seen  in  the  wigwams.  Some  of  the  half-caste  ladies  at  the 


METHODIST     INDIANS.  291 

Falls  of  St.  Mary,  who  have  been  educated  in  the  At- 
lantic states,  are  persons  of  graceful  and  dignified  manners 
and  agreeable  conversation. 

I  attended  worship  at  the  Fort,  at  the  Sault,  on  Sunday. 
The  services  were  conducted  by  the  chaplain,  who  is  of  the 
Methodist  persuasion  and  a  missionary  at  the  place,  assisted 
by  the  Baptist  missionary.  I  looked  about  me  for  some 
evidence  of  the  success  of  their  labors,  but  among  the  wor- 
shipers I  saw  not  one  male  of  Indian  descent.  Of  the 
females,  half  a  dozen,  perhaps,  were  of  the  half-caste ;  and 
as  two  of  these  walked  away  from  the  church,  I  perceived 
that  they  wore  a  fringed  clothing  for  the  ankles,  as  if  they 
took  a  certain  pride  in  this  badge  of  their  Indian  extraction. 

In  the  afternoon  we  drove  down  the  west  bank  of  the 
river  to  attend  religious  service  at  an  Indian  village,  called 
the  Little  Rapids,  about  two  miles  and  a  half  from  the 
Sault.  Here  the  Methodists  have  built  a  mission-house, 
maintain  a  missionary,  and  instruct  a  fragment  of  the 
Chippewa  tribe.  We  found  the  missionary,  Mr.  Speight,  a 
Kentuckian,  who  has  wandered  to  this  northern  region, 
quite  ill,  and  there  was  consequently  no  service. 

We  walked  through  the  village,  which  is  prettily  situated 
on  a  swift  and  deep  channel  of  the  St.  Mary,  where  the 
green  waters  rush  between  the  main-land  and  a  wooded 
island.  It  stands  on  rich  meadows  of  the  river,  with  a  path 
running  before  it,  parallel  with  the  bank,  along  the  velvet 
sward,  and  backed  at  no  great  distance  by  the  thick  original 


292  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

forest,  which  not  far  below  closes  upon  the  river  on  both 
sides.  The  inhabitants  at  the  doors  and  windows  of  their 
log-cabins  had  a  demure  and  subdued  aspect ;  they  were 
dressed  in  their  clean  Sunday  clothes,  and  the  peace  and 
quiet  of  the  place  formed  a  strong  contrast  to  the  de- 
baucheries we  had  witnessed  at  the  village  by  the  Falls. 
We  fell  in  with  an  Indian,  a  quiet  little  man,  of  very  decent 
appearance,  who  answered  our  questions  with  great  civility. 
We  asked  to  whom  belonged  the  meadows  lying  back  of  the 
cabins,  on  which  we  saw  patches  of  rye,  oats,  and  potatoes. 
"  Oh,  they  belong  to  the  mission ;  the  Indians  work 
them." 

"  Are  they  good  people,  these  Indians  ?" 
"  Oh. yes,  good  people." 
"  Do  they  never  drink  too  much  whisky  ?" 
"  Well,  I  guess  they  drink  too  much  whisky  sometimes." 
There  was  a  single  wigwam  in  the  village,  apparently  a 
supplement  to  one  of  the  log-cabins.     We  looked  in  and 
saw  two   Indian  looms,  from  which  two  unfinished  mats 
were  depending.     Mrs.  Speight,  the  wife  of  the  missionary, 
told  us  that,  a  few  days  before,  the  village  had  been  full  of 
these  lodges  ;  that  the  Indians  delighted  in  them  greatly, 
and  always  put  them  up  during  the  mosquito  season ;  "  for 
a  mosquito,"  said  the  good  lady,  "  will  never  enter  a  wig- 
wam;" and  that  lately,  the  mosquitoes  having  disappeared, 
and  the  nights  having  grown  cooler,  they  had  taken  down 
all  but  the  one  we  saw. 


SMALLNESS     OF     INDIAN     FAMILIES.  293 

"We  passed  a  few  minutes  in  the  house  of  the  missionary, 
to  which  Mrs.  Speight  kindly  invited  us.  She  gave  a 
rather  favorable  account  of  the  Indians  under  her  husband's 
charge,  but  manifestly  an  honest  one,  and  without  any  wish 
to  extenuate  the  defects  of  their  character. 

"  There  are  many  excellent  persons  among  them,"  she 
said  ;  "  they  are  a  kind,  simple,  honest  people,  and  some  of 
them  are  eminently  pious." 

"  Do  they  follow  any  regular  industry  ?" 

"  Many  of  them  are  as  regularly  industrious  as  the 
whites,  rising  early  and  continuing  at  their  work  in  the 
fields  all  day.  They  are  not  so  attentive  as  we  could  wish 
to  the  education  of  their  children.  It  is  difficult  to  make 
them  send  their  children  regularly  to  school ;  they  think 
they  confer  a  favor  in  allowing  us  to  instruct  them,  and  if 
they  happen  to  take  a  little  offense  their  children  are  kept 
at  home.  The  great  evil  against  which  we  have  to  guard 
is  the  love  of  strong  drink.  When  this  is  offered  to  an 
Indian,  it  seems  as  if  it  was  not  in  his  nature  to  resist  the 
temptation.  I  have  known  whole  congregations  of  Indians, 
good  Indians,  ruined  and  brought  to  nothing  by  the  oppor- 
tunity of  obtaining  whisky  as  often  as  they  pleased." 

We  inquired  whether  the  numbers  of  the  people  at  the 
mission  were  diminishing.  She  could  not  speak  with  much 
certainty  as  to  this  point,  having  been  only  a  year  and  a 
half  at  the  mission,  but  she  thought  there  was  a  gradual 
decrease. 

15*  » 


294  LETTEHS    OF    A    TRAVELLER. 

"  The  families  of  the  Indians,"  she  said,  in  answer  to  one 
of  my  questions,  "  are  small.  In  one  family  at  the  village 
are  six  children,  and  it  is  the  talk  of  all  the  Indians,  far 
and  near,  as  something  extraordinary.  Generally  the 
number  is  much  smaller,  and  more  than  half  the  children 
die  in  infancy.  Their  means  would  not  allow  them  to 
rear  many  children,  even  if  the  number  of  births  was 
greater." 

Such  appears  to  be  the  destiny  of  the  red  race  while  in 
the  presence  of  the  white — decay  and  gradual  extinction, 
even  under  circumstances  apparently  the  most  favorable  to 
its  preservation. 

On  Monday  we  left  the  Falls  of  St.  Mary,  in  the  steamer 
General  Scott,  on  our  return  to  Mackinaw.  There  were 
about  forty  passengers  on  board,  men  in  search  of  copper- 
mines,  and  men  in  search  of  health,  and  travellers  from 
curiosity,  Virginians,  New  Yorkers,  wanderers  from  Illinois, 
Indiana,  Massachusetts,  and  I  believe  several  other  states. 
On  reaching  Mackinaw  in  the  evening,  our  party  took 
quarters  in  the  Mansion  House,  the  obliging  host  of  which 
stretched  his  means  to  the  utmost  for  our  accommodation. 
Mackinaw  is  at  the  present  moment  crowded  with 
strangers ;  attracted  by  the  cool  healthful  climate  and  the 
extreme  beauty  of  the  place.  We  were  packed  for  the 
night  almost  as  closely  as  the  Potawottamies,  whose  lodges 
were  on  the  beach  before  us.  Parlors  and  garrets  were 
turned  into  sleeping-rooms ;  beds  were  made  on  the  floors 


1 


CLOSE     QUARTERS.  295 

and  in  the  passages,  and  double-bedded  rooms  were  made  to 
receive  four  beds.  It  is  no  difficult  feat  to  sleep  at  Macki- 
naw, even  in  an  August  night,  and  we  soon  forgot,  in  a 
refreshing  slumber,  the  narrowness  of  our  quarters. 


296  LETTERS    OF    A     TRAVELLER. 


LETTER  XXXVII. 

THE    ISLAND    OF    MACKINAW. 

STEAMER  ST.  Louis,  Lake  Huron,  ^ 
August  20,  1846.  f 

YESTERDAY  evening  we  left  the  beautiful  island  of  Macki- 
naw, after  a  visit  of  two  days  delightfully  passed.  We  had 
climbed  its  cliffs,  rambled  on  its  shores,  threaded  the  walks 
among  its  thickets,  driven  out  in  the  roads  that  wind  through 
its  woods — roads  paved  by  nature  with  limestone  pebbles,  a 
sort  of  natural  macadamization,  and  the  time  of  our  de- 
parture seemed  to  arrive  several  days  too  soon. 

The  fort  which  crowns  the  heights  near  the  shore  com- 
mands an  extensive  prospect,  but  a  still  wider  one  is  to  be 
seen  from  the  old  fort,  Fort  Holmes,  as  it  is  called,  among 
whose  ruined  intrenchments  the  half-breed  boys  and  girls 
now  gather  gooseberries.  It  stands  on  the  very  crest  of  the 
of  the  island,  overlooking  all  the  rest.  The  air,  when  we 
ascended  it,  was  loaded  with  the  smoke  of  burning  forests, 
but  from  this  spot,  in  clear  weather,  I  was  told  a  magnifi- 
cent view  might  be  had  of  the  Straits  of  Mackinaw,  the 
wooded  islands,  and  the  shores  and  capes  of  the  great  main- 
land, places  known  to  history  for  the  past  two  centuries. 


SIXTY     YEARS     SINCE.  297 

For  when  you  are  at  Mackinaw  you  are  at  no  new  settle- 
ment. 

In  looking  for  samples  of  Indian  embroidery  with  porcu- 
pine quills,  we  found  ourselves  one  day  in  the  warehouse  of 
the  American  Fur  Company,  at  Mackinaw.  Here,  on  the 
shelves,  were  piles  of  blankets,  white  and  blue,  red  scarfs, 
and  white  boots ;  snow-shoes  were  hanging  on  the  walls, 
and  wolf-traps,  rifles,  and  hatchets,  were  slung  to  the  ceiling 
— an  assortment  of  goods  destined  for  the  Indians  and  half- 
breeds  of  the  northwest.  The  person  who  attended  at  the 
counter  spoke  English  with  a  foreign  accent.  I  asked  him 
how  long  he  had  been  in  the  northwestern  country. 

"  To  say  the  truth,"  he  answered,  "  I  have  been  here 
sixty  years  and  some  days." 

"  You  were  born  here,  then." 

"  I  am  a  native  of  Mackinaw,  French  by  the  mother's 
side  ;  my  father  was  an  Englishman." 

"  Was  the  place  as  considerable  sixty  years  ago  as  it 
now  is  ?" 

"  More  so.  There  was  more  trade  here,  and  quite  as 
many  inhabitants.  All  the  houses,  or  nearly  all,  were  then 
built ;  two  or  three  only  have  been  put  up  since." 

I  could  easily  imagine  that  Mackinaw  must  have  been  a 
place  of  consequence  when  here  was  the  centre  of  the  fur 
trade,  now  removed  further  up  the  country.  I  was  shown 
the  large  house  in  which  the  heads  of  the  companies  of  voy- 
ageurs  engaged  in  the  trade  were  lodged,  and  the  barracks, 


298  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

a  long  low  building,  in  which  the  voyageurs  themselves, 
seven  hundred  in  number,  made  their  quarters  from  the  end  of 
June  till  the  beginning  of  October,  when  they  went  out  again 
on  their  journeys.  This  interval  of  three  months  was  a  merry 
time  with  those  light-hearted  Frenchmen.  When  a  boat 
made  its  appearance  approaching  Mackinaw,  they  fell  to 
conjecturing  to  what  company  of  voyageurs  it  belonged  ;  as 
the  dispute  grew  warm  the  conjectures  became  bets,  till 
finally,  unable  to  restrain  their  impatience,  the  boldest  of 
them  dashed  into  the  waters,  swam  out  to  the  boat,  and 
climbing  on  board,  shook  hands  with  their  brethren,  amidst 
the  shouts  of  those  who  stood  on  the  beach. 

They  talk,  on  the  New  England  coast,  of  Chebacco  boats, 
built  after  a  peculiar  pattern,  and  called  after  Chebacco,  an 
ancient  settlement  of  sea-faring  men,  who  have  foolishly 
changed  the  old  Indian  name  of  their  place  to  Ipswich. 
The  Mackinaw  navigators  have  also  given  their  name  to  a 
boat  of  peculiar  form,  sharp  at  both  ends,  swelled  at  the 
sides,  and  flat-bottomed,  an  excellent  sea-boat,  it  is  said,  as 
it  must  be  to  live  in  the  wild  storms  that  surprise  the  mar- 
iner on  Lake  Superior. 

We  took  yesterday  a  drive  to  the  western  shore.  The 
road  twined  through  a  wood  of  over-arching  beeches  and 
maples,  interspersed  with  the  white-cedar  and  fir.  The 
driver  stopped  before  a  cliff  sprouting  with  beeches  and 
cedars,  with  a  small  cavity  at  the  foot.  This  he  told  us 
was  the  Skull  Cave.  It  is  only  remarkable  on  account  of 


THE     BRITISH     LANDING.  299 

human  bones  having  been  found  in  it.  Further  on  a  whito 
paling  gleamed  through  the  trees ;  it  inclosed  the  solitary 
burial  ground  of  the  garrison,  with  half  a  dozen  graves. 
"There  are  few  buried  here,"  said  a  gentleman  of  our 
party  ;  "the  soldiers  who  come  to  Mackinaw  sick  get  well 
soon." 

The  road  we  travelled  was  cut  through  the  woods  by 
Captain  Scott,  who  commanded  at  the  fort  a  few  years  since. 
He  is  the  marksman  whose  aim  was  so  sure  that  the 
western  people  say  of  him,  that  a  raccoon  ou  a  tree  once 
offered  to  come  down  and  surrender  without  giving  him  the 
trouble  to  fire. 

We  passed  a  farm  surrounded  with  beautiful  groves.  In 
one  of  its  meadows  was  fought  the  battle  between  Colonel 
Croghan  and  the  British  officer  Holmes  in  the  war  of  1813 
Three  luxuriant  beeches  stand  in  the  edge  of  the  wood, 
north  of  the  meadow ;  one  of  them  is  the  monument  of 
Holmes ;  he  lies  buried  at  its  root.  Another  quarter  of  a 
mile  led  us  to  a  little  bay  on  the  solitary  shore  of  the  lake 
looking  to  the  northwest.  It  is  called  the  British  Landing, 
because  the  British  troops  landed  here  in  the  late  war  to 
take  possession  of  the  island. 

We  wandered  about  awhile,  and  then  sat  down  upon  the 
embankment  of  pebbles  which  the  waves  of  the  lake, 
heaving  for  centuries,  have  heaped  around  the  shore  of  the 
island — pebbles  so  clean  that  they  would  no  more  soil  a 
lady's  white  muslin  gown  than  if  they  had  been  of  newly 


300  LETTERS    OF    A    TRAVELLER. 

polished  alabaster.  The  water  at  our  feet  was  as  trans- 
parent as  the  air  around  us.  On  the  main-land  opposite 
stood  a  church  with  its  spire,  and  several  roofs  were  visible, 
with  a  background  of  woods  behind  them. 

"  There,"  said  one  of  our  party,  "  is  the  old  Mission 
Church.  It  was  built  by  the  Catholics  in  1680,  and  has 
been  a  place  of  worship  ever  since.  The  name  of  the  spot 
is  Point  St.  Ignace,  and  there  lives  an  Indian  of  the  full 
caste,  who  was  sent  to  Rome  and  educated  to  be  a  priest,  but 
he  preferred  the  life  of  a  layman,  and  there  he  lives  on  that 
wild  shore,  with  a  library  in  his  lodge,  a  learned  savage, 
occupied  with  reading  and  study." 

You  may  well  suppose  that  I  felt  a  strong  desire  to  see 
Point  St.  Ignace,  its  venerable  Mission  Church,  its  Indian 
village,  so  long  under  the  care  of  Catholic  pastors,  and  its 
learned  savage  who  talks  Italian,  but  the  time  of  my 
departure  was  already  fixed.  My  companions  were  pointing 
out  on  that  shore,  the  mouth  of  Carp  River,  which  cornes 
down  through  the  forest  roaring  over  rocks,  and  in  any  of  the 
pools  of  which  you  have  only  to  throw  a  line,  with  any  sort 
of  bait,  to  be  sure  of  a  trout,  when  the  driver  of  our  vehicle 
called  out,  "  Your  boat  is  coming."  We  looked  and  saw 
the  St.  Louis  steamer,  not  one  of  the  largest,  but  one  of  the 
finest  boats  in  the  line  between  Buffalo  and  Chicago, 
making  rapidly  for  the  island,  with  a  train  of  black  smoke 
hanging  in  the  air  behind  her.  We  hastened  to  return 
through  the  woods,  and  in  an  hour  and  a  half  we  were  in 


THE    ARC  II  ED     ROCK.  301 

our  clean  and  comfortable  quarters  in  this  well-ordered  little 
steamer. 

But  I  should  mention  that  before  leaving  Mackinaw,  we 
did  not  fail  to  visit  the  principal  curiosities  of  the  place,  the 
Sugar  Loaf  Rock,  a  remarkable  rock  in  the  middle  of  the 
island,  of  a  sharp  conical  form,  rising  above  the  trees  by 
which  it  is  surrounded,  and  lifting  the  stunted  birches  on  its 
shoulders  higher  than  they,  like  a  tall  fellow  holding  up  a 
little  boy  to  overlook  a  crowd  of  men — and  the  Arched 
Rock  on  the  shore.  The  atmosphere  was  thick  with  smoke, 
and  through  the  opening  spanned  by  the  arch  of  the  rock  I 
saw  the  long  waves,  rolled  up  by  a  fresh  wind,  come  one 
after  another  out  of  the  obscurity,  and  break  with  roaring 
on  the  beach. 

The  path  along  the  brow  of  the  precipice  and  among  the 
evergreens,  by  which  this  rock  is  reached,  is  singularly  wild, 
but  another  which  leads  to  it  along  the  shore  is  no  less 
picturesque — passing  under  impending  cliffs  and  overshad- 
owing cedars,  and  between  huge  blocks  and  pinnacles  of 
rock. 

I  spoke  in  one  of  my  former  letters  of  the  manifest  fate 
of  Mackinaw,  which  is  to  be  a  watering-place.  I  can  not 
see  how  it  is  to  escape  this  destiny.  People  already  begin 
to  repair  to  it  for  health  and  refreshment  from  the  soiithern 
borders  of  Lake  Michigan.  Its  climate  during  the  summer 
months  is  delightful ;  there  is  no  air  more  pure  and  elastic, 
and  the  winds  of  the  routh  and  southwest,  which  are  so  hot 
26 


302  LETTERS    OF     A    TRAVELLER. 

on  the  prairies,  arrive  here  tempered  to  a  grateful  coolness 
by  the  waters  over  which  they  have  swept.  The  nights 
are  always,  in  the  hottest  season,  agreeably  cool,  and  the 
health  of  the  place  is  proverbial.  The  world  has  not  many 
islands  so  beautiful  as  Mackinaw,  as  you  may  judge 
from  the  description  I  have  already  given  of  parts  of  it. 
The  surface  is  singularly  irregular,  with  summits  of  rock 
and  pleasant  hollows,  open  glades  of  pasturage  and  shady 
nooks.  To  some,  the  savage  visitors,  who  occasionally  set 
up  their  lodges  on  its  beach,  as  well  as  on  that  of  the  sur- 
rounding islands,  and  paddle  their  canoes  in  its  waters,  will 
be  an  additional  attraction.  I  can  not  but  think  with  a  kind 
of  regret  on  the  time  which,  I  suppose  is  near  at  hand,  when 
its  wild  and  lonely  woods  will  be  intersected  with  high- 
ways, and  filled  with  cottages  a.ud  boarding-houses. 


SOUTHERN     NEW    JERSEY.  303 


LETTER    XXXVIII. 

AN    EXCURSION    TO    THE    WATER    GAP. 

STEOUDSBCRG,  Monroe  Co.,  Perm.  ) 
October  23,  1846.      ) 

I  REACHED  this  place  last  evening,  having  taken  Easton 
in  my  way.  Did  it  ever  occur  to  you,  in  passing  through 
New  Jersey,  how  much  the  northern  part  of  the  state  is,  in 
some  respects,  like  New  York,  and  how  much  the  southern 
part  resembles  Pennsylvania  ?  For  twenty  miles  before 
reaching  Easton,  you  see  spacious  dwelling-houses,  often  of 
stone,  substantially  built,  and  barns  of  the  size  of  churches, 
and  large  farms  with  extensive  woods  of  tall  trees,  as  in 
Pennsylvania,  where  the  right  of  soil  has  not  undergone  so 
many  subdivisions  as  with  us.  I  was  shown  in  Warren 
county,  in  a  region  apparently  of  great  fertility,  a  farm 
which  was  said  to  be  two  miles  square.  It  belonged  to  a 
farmer  of  German  origin,  whose  comfortable  mansion  stood 
by  the  way,  and  who  came  into  the  state  many  years  ago, 
a  young  man. 

"  I  have  heard  him  say,"  said  a  passenger,  "  that  when 
his  father  brought  him  out  with  his  young  wife  into  Warren 
county,  and  set  him  down  upon  what  then  appeared  a  bar- 
ren little  farm,  now  a  part  of  his  large  and  productive 


304  LETTERS    OP    A     TRAVELLER. 

estate,  his  heart  failed  him.  However  he  went  to  work  in- 
dustriously, practicing  the  strictest  economy,  and  by  apply- 
ing lime  copiously  to  the  soil  made  it  highly  fertile.  It  is 
lime  which  makes  this  region  the  richest  land  in  New  Jer- 
sey ;  the  farmers  find  limestone  close  at  hand,  hum  it  in 
their  kilns,  and  scatter  it  on  the  surface.  The  person  of 
whom  I  speak  took  off  large  crops  from  his  little  farm,  and 
as  soon  as  he  had  any  money  beforehand,  he  added  a  few 
acres  more,  so  that  it  gradually  grew  to  its  present  size. 
Rich  as  he  is,  he  is  a  worthy  man ;  his  sons,  who  are  nu- 
merous, are  all  fine  fellows,  not  a  scape-grace  among  them, 
and  he  has  settled  them  all  on  farms  around  him." 

Easton,  which  we  entered  soon  after  dark,  is  a  pretty 
little  town  of  seven  thousand  inhabitants,  much  more  sub- 
stantially built  than  towns  of  the  same  size  in  this  country. 
Many  of  the  houses  are  of  stone,  and  to  the  sides  of  some  of 
them  you  see  the  ivy  clinging  and  hiding  the  masonry  with 
a  veil  of  evergreen  foliage.  The  middle  of  the  streets  is 
unpaved  and  very  dusty,  but  the  broad  flagging  on  the 
sides,  under  the  windows  of  the  houses,  is  sedulously  swept. 
The  situation  of  the  place  is  uncommonly  picturesque.  If 
ever  the  little  borough  of  Easton  shall  grow  into  a  great 
town,  it  will  stand  on  one  of  the  most  commanding  sites  in 
the  world,  unless  its  inhabitants  shall  have  spoiled  it  by  im- 
provements. The  Delaware,  which  forms  the  eastern  bound 
of  the  borough,  approaches  it  from  the  north  through  high 
wooded  banks,  and  flows  away  to  join  the  Susquehanna 


BEAUTIFUL     SITE    OF    EASTON.  305 

between  craggy  precipices.  On  the  south  side,  the  Lehigh 
comes  down  through  a  deep,  verdant  hollow,  arid  on  the 
north  the  Bushkill  winds  through  a  glen  shaded  with  trees, 
on  the  rocky  banks  of  which  is  one  of  the  finest  drives  in 
the  world.  In  the  midst  of  the  borough  rises  a  crag  as  lofty 
as  that  on  which  Stirling  Castle  is  built — in  Europe,  it 
would  most  certainly  have  been  crowned  with  its  castle ; 
steep  and  grassy  on  one  side,  and  precipitous  and  rocky  on 
the  other,  where  it  overhangs  the  Bushkill.  The  college 
stands  on  a  lofty  eminence,  overlooking  the  dwellings  and 
streets,  but  it  is  an  ugly  building,  and  has  not  a  tree  to  con- 
ceal even  in  part  its  ugliness.  Besides  these,  are  various 
other  eminences  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  this  compact 
little  town,  which  add  greatly  to  its  beauty. 

We  set  out  the  next  morning  for  the  Delaware  Water 
Gap,  following  the  road  along  the  Delaware,  which  is  here 
uncommonly  beautiful.  The  steep  bank  is  mostly  covered 
with  trees  sprouting  from  the  rocky  shelves,  and  below  is  a 
fringe  of  trees  between  the  road  and  the  river.  A  little  way 
from  the  town,  the  driver  pointed  out,  in  the  midst  of  the 
stream,  a  long  island  of  loose  stones  and  pebbles,  without  a 
leaf  or  stem  of  herbage. 

"  It  was  there,"  said  he,  "  that  Gaetter,  six  years  ago, 
was  hanged  for  the  murder  of  his  wife." 

The  high  and  steep  bank  of  the  river,  the  rocks  and  the 
trees,  he  proceeded  to  tell  us,  were  covered  on  that  day  with 
eager  spectators  from  all  the  surrounding  country,  every  o:ie 
26* 


306  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

of  whom,  looking  immediately  down  on  the  island,  could 
enjoy  a  perfect  view  of  the  process  by  which  the  poor  wretch 
in  the  hands  of  the  hangman  was  turned  off. 

About  five  miles  from  Easton  we  stopped  to  water  our 
horses  at  an  inn,  a  large  handsome  stone  house,  with  a 
chatty  landlord,  who  spoke  with  a  strong  German  accent, 
complaining  pathetically  of  the  potato  disease,  which  had 
got  into  the  fields  of  the  neighborhood,  but  glorying  in  the 
abundant  crops  of  maize  and  wheat  which  had  been  gath- 
ered. Two  miles  further  on,  we  turned  away  from  the  river 
and  ascended  to  the  table-land  above,  which  we  found  green 
with  extensive  fields  of  wheat,  just  springing  under  the 
autumnal  sun.  In  one  of  the  little  villages  nestling  in  the 
hollows  of  that  region,  we  stopped  for  a  few  moments, 
and  fell  into  conversation  with  a  tolerably  intelligent  man, 
though  speaking  English  with  some  peculiarities  that 
indicated  the  race  to  which  he  belonged.  A  sample  of 
his  dialect  may  amuse  you.  We  asked  him  what  the 

"  Oh,"  said  he,  "  there  are  different  obinions,  some  likes 
people  in  that  part  of  the  country  thought  of  the   new 
tariff, 
it  and  some  not." 

"  How  do  the  democrats  take  it  ?" 

"  The  democratic  in  brinciple  likes  it." 

"  Did  it  have  any  effect  on  the  election  ?" 

"  It  bre vented  a  goot  many  democrats  from  voting  for 
their  candidate  for  Congress,  Mr.  Brodhead,  because  he  is 


THE    WATER     GAP.  307 

for  the  old  tariff.  This  is  a  very  strong  democratic  district, 
and  Mr.  Brodhead's  majority  is  only  about  a  sousand." 

A  little  beyond  this  village  we  came  in  sight  of  the 
Water  Gap,  where  the  Blue  Ridge  has  been  cloven  down 
to  its  base  to  form  a  passage  for  the  Delaware.  Two  lofty 
summits,  black  with  precipices  of  rock,  form  the  gates  through 
which  the  river  issues  into  the  open  country.  Here  it  runs 
noisily  over  the  shallows,  as  if  boasting  aloud  of  the  victory 
it  had  achieved  in  breaking  its  way  through  such  mighty  bar- 
riers ;  but  within  the  Gap  it  sleeps  in  quiet  pools,  or  flows 
in  deep  glassy  currents.  By  the  side  of  these  you  see  large 
rafts  composed  of  enormous  trunks  of  trees  that  have  floated 
down  with  the  spring  floods  from  the  New  York  forests,  and 
here  wait  for  their  turn  in  the  saw-mills  along  the  shore. 
It  was  a  bright  morning,  with  a  keen  autumnal  air,  and 
we  dismounted  from  our  vehicle  and  walked  through  the 
Gap. 

It  will  give  your  readers  an  idea  of  the  Water  Gap,  to  say 
that  it  consists  of  a  succession  of  lofty  peaks,  like  the  High- 
lands of  the  Hudson,  with  a  winding  and  irregular  space 
between  them  a  few  rods  wide,  to  give  passage  to  the  river. 
They  are  unlike  the  Highlands,  however,  in  one  respect, 
that  their  sides  are  covered  with  large  loose  blocks  detached 
from  the  main  precipices.  Among  these  grows  the  original 
forest,  which  descends  to  their  foot,  fringes  the  river,  and 
embowers  the  road. 

The  present  autumn  is,   I  must   say,  in  regard  to  the 


308  LETTERS    OF    A    TRAVELLER. 

coloring  of  the  forests,  one  of  the  shabbiest  and  least 
brilliant  I  remember  to  have  seen  in  this  country,  almost  as 
sallow  and  dingy  in  its  hues  as  an  autumn  in  Europe. 
But  here  in  the  Water  Gap  it  was  not  without  some  of  its 
accustomed  brightness  of  tints — the  sugar-maple  with  its 
golden  leaves,  and  the  water-maple  with  its  foliage  of 
scarlet,  contrasted  with  the  intense  green  of  the  hemlock-fir, 
the  pine,  the  rosebay-laurel,  and  the  mountain-laurel,  which 
here  grow  in  the  same  thicket,  while  the  ground  below 
was  carpeted  with  humbler  evergreens,  the  aromatic 
wintergreen,  and  the  trailing  arbutus.  The  Water  Gap  is 
about  a  mile  in  length,  and  near  its  northern  entrance  an 
excellent  hotel,  the  resort  of  summer  visitors,  stands  on  a 
cliff*  which  rises  more  than  a  hundred  feet  almost  perpen- 
dicularly from  the  river.  From  this  place  the  eye  follows 
the  Water  Gap  to  where  mountains  shut  in  one  behind 
another,  like  the  teeth  of  a  saw,  and  between  them  the 
Delaware  twines  out  of  sight. 

Before  the  hotel  a  fine  little  boy  of  about  two  years  of 
age  was  at  play.  The  landlord  showed  us  on  the  calf  of 
the  child's  leg  two  small  lurid  spots,  about  a  quarter  of  an 
inch  apart.  "  That,"  said  he,  "  is  the  bite  of  a  copper- 
head snake." 

We  asked  when  this  happened. 

"  It  was  last  summer,"  answered  he ;  "  the  child  was 
playing  on  the  side  of  the  road,  when  he  was  heard  to  cry, 
and  seen  to  make  for  the  house.  As  soon  as  he  came,  my 


BITE     OF     A    COPPER-HEAD     SNAKE.  309 

wife  called  my  attention  to  what  she  called  a  scratch  on  hi«. 
leg.  I  examined  it,  the  spot  was  already  purple  and  hard, 
and  the  child  was  crying  violently.  I  knew  it  to  be  the 
bite  of  a  copper-head,  and  immediately  cut  it  open  with  a 
sharp  knife,  making  the  blood  to  flow  freely  and.  washing 
the  part  with  water.  At  the  same  time  we  got  a  yerb" 
(such  was  his  pronunciation)  "  on  the  hills,  which  some  call 
lion-heart,  and  others  snake-head.  We  steeped  this  yerb  in 
milk  which  we  made  him  drink.  The  doctor  had  been  sent 
for,  and  when  he  came  applied  hartshorn  ;  but  I  believe 
that  opening  the  wound  and  letting  the  blood  flow  was  the 
most  effectual  remedy.  The  leg  was  terribly  swollen,  and 
for  ten  days  we  thought  the  little  fellow  in  great  danger, 
but  after  that  he  became  better  and  finally  recovered." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  it  was  a  copper-head  that  bit 
him  ?'! 

"  We  sent  to  the  place  where  he  was  at  play,  found  the 
snake,  and  killed  it.  A  violent  rain  had  fallen  just 
before,  and  it  had  probably  washed  him  down  from  the 
mountain-side." 

"  The  boy  appears  very  healthy  now." 

"  Much  better  than  before  ;  he  was  formerly  delicate, 
and  troubled  with  an  eruption,  but  that  has  disappeared, 
and  he  has  become  hardy  and  fond  of  the  open  air." 

We  dined  at  the  hotel  and  left  the  Water  Gap.  As  we 
passed  out  of  its  jaws  we  met  a  man  in  a  little  wagon,  carry- 
ing behind  him  the  carcass  of  a  deer  he  had  just  killed. 


310  LETTERS    OF    A    TRAVELLER. 

They  are  hunted,  at  this  time  of  the  year,  and  killed  in  con- 
siderable numbers  in  the  extensive  forests  to  the  north  of  this 
place.  A  drive  of  four  miles  over  hill  and  valley  brought 
us  to  Stroudsburg,  on  the  banks  of  the  Pocano — a  place  of 
which  I  shall  speak  in  my  next  letter. 


DEER.    IN     THE     LATJHEL     SWAMPS.  311 


LETTER    XLII. 

AN    EXCURSION     TO    THE     WATER    GAP. 

E ASTON',  Penn.,  October  24,  1846. 

MY  yesterday's  letter  left  me  at  Stroudsburg,  about  four 
miles  west  of  the  Delaware.  It  is  a  pleasant  village,  situated 
on  the  banks  of  the  Pocano.  From  this  stream  the  inhab- 
itants have  diverted  a  considerable  portion  of  the  water, 
bringing  the  current  through  this  village  in  a  canal,  making 
it  to  dive  under  the  road  and  rise  again  on  the  opposite  side, 
after  which  it  hastens  to  turn  a  cluster  of  mills.  To  the 
north  is  seen  the  summit  of  the  Pocano  mountain,  where  this 
stream  has  its  springs,  with  woods  stretching  down  its  sides 
and  covering  the  adjacent  country.  Here,  about  nine  miles 
to  the  north  of  the  village,  deer 'haunt  and  are  hunted.  I 
heard  of  one  man  who  had  already  killed  nine  of  these  ani- 
mals within  two  or  three  weeks.  A  traveller  from  Wyoming 
county,  whom  I  met  at  our  inn,  gave  me  some  account  of 
the  winter  life  of  the  deer. 

"  They  inhabit,"  he  said,  "  the  swamps  of  mountain-laurel 
thickets,  through  which  a  man  would  find  it  almost  impossi- 
ble to  make  his  way.  The  laurel-bushes,  and  the  hemlocks 


312  LETTERS    OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

scattered  among  them,  intercept  the  snow  as  it  falls,  and  form 
a  thick  roof,  under  the  shelter  of  which,  near  some  pool  or 
rivulet,  the  animals  remain  until  spring  opens,  as  snugly  pro- 
tected from  the  severity  of  the  weather  as  sheep  under  the 
sheds  of  a  farm-yard.  Here  they  feed  upon  the  leaves  of  the 
laurel  and  other  evergreens.  It  is  contrary  to  the  law  to  kill 
them  after  the  Christmas  holidays,  but  sometimes  their  re- 
treat is  invaded,  and  a  deer  or  two  killed  ;  their  flesh,  how- 
ever, is  not  wholesome,  on  account  of  the  laurel  leaves  on 
which  they  feed,  and  their  skin  is  nearly  worthless." 

I  expressed  my  surprise  that  the  leaves  of  the  mountain 
laurel,  the  kalmia  latifolia,  which  are  so  deadly  to  sheep, 
should  be  the  winter  food  of  the  deer. 

"  It  is  because  the  deer  has  no  gall,"  answered  the  man, 
"  that  the  pison  don't  take  effect.  But  their  meat  will  not 
do  to  eat,  except  in  a  small  quantity,  and  cooked  with  pork, 
which  I  think  helps  take  the  pison  out  of  it." 

"  The  deer,"  he  went  on  to  say,  "  are  now  passing  out  of 
the  blue  into  the  gray.  After  the  holidays,  when  their  hair 
becomes  long,  and  their  winter  coat  is  quite  grown,  their  hide 
is  soft  and  tender,  and  tears  easily  when  dressed,  and  it  would 
be  folly  to  kill  them,  even  if  there  were  no  law  against  it." 
He  went  on  to  find  a  parallel  to  the  case  of  the  deer-skins  in 
the  hides  of  neat-cattle,  which,  when  brought  from  a  hot 
country,  like  South  America,  are  firmer  and  tougher  than 
when  obtained  in  a  colder  climate  like  ours. 

The  Wyoming  traveller  gave  a  bad  account  of  the  health, 


CHERRY    HOLLOW  313 

just  at  present,  of  the  beautiful  valley  in  which  he  lived, 
"  We  have  never  before,"  said  he,  "  known  what  it  was  to 
have  the  fever  and  ague  among  us,  but  now  it  is  very  com- 
mon, as  well  as  other  fevers.  The  season  has  neither  been 
uncommonly  wet  nor  uncommonly  dry,  but  it  has  been  un- 
commonly hot."  I  heard  the  same  account  of  various  other 
districts  in  Pennsylvania.  Mifflin  county,  for  example,  was 
sickly  this  season,  as  well  as  other  parts  of  the  state  which 
hitherto  have  been  almost  uniformly  healthy.  Here,  how- 
ever, in  Stroudsburg  and  its  neighborhood,  they  boasted 
that  the  fever  and  ague  had  never  yet  made  its  appear- 
ance. 

I  was  glad  to  hear  a  good  account  of  the  pecuniary  cir- 
cumstances of  the  Pennsylvania  farmers.  They  got  in  debt 
like  every  body  else  during  the  prosperous  years  of  1835  and 
1836,  and  have  been  ever  since  working  themselves  grad- 
ually out  of  it.  "  I  have  never,"  said  an  intelligent  gentle- 
man of  Stroudsburg,  "  known  the  owners  of  the  farms  so  free 
from  debt,  and  so  generally  easy  and  prosperous  in  their  con- 
dition, as  at  this  moment."  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  having 
been  so  successful  in  paying  their  private  debts,  they  will  now 
try  what  can  be  done  with  the  debt  of  the  state. 

We  left  Stroudsburg  this  morning — one  of  the  finest 
mornings  of  this  autumnal  season — and  soon  climbed  an 
eminence  which  looked  down  upon  Cherry  Hollow.  This 
place  reminded  me,  with  the  exception  of  its  forests,  of  the 
valleys  in  the  Peak  of  Derbyshire,  the  same  rounded 
27 


314  L  K  T  T  E  -R  S     O  F     A     TRAVELLER. 

summits,  the  same  green,  basin-like  hollows.  But  here,  on 
the  hill-sides,  were  tall  groves  of  oak  and  chestnut,  instead  of 
the  hrown  heath  ;  and  the  large  stone  houses  of  the  German 
householders  were  very  unlike  the  Derbyshire  cottages. 
The  valley  is  four  miles  in  length,  and  its  eastern  extremity 
is  washed  by  the  Delaware.  Climbing  out  of  this  valley 
and  passing  for  some  miles  through  yellow  woods  and  fields 
of  springing  corn,  not  Indian  corn,  we  found  ourselves  at 
length  travelling  on  the  side  of  another  long  valley,  which 
terminates  at  its  southern  extremity  in  the  Wind  (rap. 

The  Wind  Gap  is  an  opening  in  the  same  mountain  ridge 
which  is  cloven  by  the  Water  Gap,  but,  unlike  that,  it  ex- 
tends only  about  half-way  down  to  the  base.  Through  this 
opening,  bordered  on  each  side  by  large  loose  blocks  of 
stone,  the  road  passes.  After  you  have  reached  the  open 
country  beyond,  you  look  back  and  see  the  ridge  stretching 
away  eastward  towards  the  Water  Gap,  and  in  the  other 
direction  towards  the  southwest  till  it  sinl.s  out  of  sight,  a 
rocky  wall  of  uniform  height,  with  this  opening  in  the  midst, 
which  looks  as  if  part  of  the  mountain  had  here  fallen  into 
an  abyss  below.  Beyond  the  Wind  Gap  we  came  to  the 
village  of  Windham,  lying  in  the  shelter  of  this  mountain 
barrier,  and  here,  about  twelve  o'clock,  our  driver  stopped  a 
moment  at  an  inn  to  give  water  to  his  horses.  The  bar- 
room was  full  of  fresh-colored  young  men  in  military 
uniforms,  talking  Pennsylvania  German  rather  rapidly  and 
vociferously.  They  surrounded  a  thick-set  man,  in  a  cap 


NAZARETH.  315 

and  shirt-sleeves,  whom  they  called  Tscho,   or   Joe,  and 
insisted  that  he  should  give  them  a  tune  on  his  fiddle. 

'Spiel,  Tscho,  spiel,  spiel,"  was  shouted  on  every  side, 
and  at  last  Tscho  took  the  floor  with  a  fiddle  and  began  to 
play.  About  a  dozen  of  the  young  men  stood  up  on  the 
floor,  in  couples,  facing  each  other,  and  hammered  out  the 
tune  with  their-  feet,  giving  a  tread  or  tap  on  the  floor  to 
correspond  with  every  note  of  the  instrument,  and  occasion- 
ally crossing  from  side  to  side.  I  have  never  seen  dancing 
more  diligently  performed. 

When  the  player  had  drawn  the  final  squeak  from  his 
violin,  we  got  into  our  vehicle,  and  in  somewhat  more  than 
an  hour  were  entering  the  little  village  of  Nazareth, 
pleasantly  situated  among  fields  the  autumnal  verdure  of 
which  indicated  their  fertility.  Nazareth  is  a  Moravian 
village,  of  four  or  five  hundred  inhabitants,  looking  pro- 
digiously like  a  little  town  of  the  old  world,  except  that  it  is 
more  neatly  kept.  The  houses  are  square  arid  solid,  of 
stone  or  brick,  built  immediately  on  the  street ;  a  pavement 
of  broad  flags  runs  under  their  windows,  and  between  the 
flags  and  the  carriage-way  is  a  row  of  trees.  In  the  centre 
of  the  village  is  a  square  with  an  arcade  for  a  market,  and 
a  little  aside  from  the  main  street,  in  a  hollow  covered  with 
bright  green  grass,  is  another  square,  in  the  midst  of  which 
stands  a  large  white  church.  Near  it  is  an  avenue,  with 
two  immense  lime-trees  growing  at  the  gate,  leading  to  the 
field  in  which  they  bury  their  dead.  Looking  upon  this 


316  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

square  is  a  large  building,  three  or  four  stories  high,  where 
a  school  for  boys  is  kept,  to  which  pupils  are  sent  from 
various  parts  of  the  country,  and  which  enjoys  a  very  good 
reputation.  We  entered  the  garden  of  this  school,  an 
inclosure  thickly  overshadowed  with  tall  forest  and  exotic 
trees  of  various  kinds,  with  shrubs  below,  and  winding 
walks  and  summer-houses  and  benches.  The  boys  of 
the  school  were  amusing  themselves  under  the  trees, 
and  the  arched  walks  were  ringing  with  their  shrill 
voices. 

We  visited  also  the  burying  place,  which  is  situated  on  a 
little  eminence,  backed  with  a  wood,  and  commands  a  view 
of  the  village.  The  Moravian  grave  is  simple  in  its 
decorations ;  a  small  flat  stone,  of  a  square  shape,  lying  in 
the  midst,  between  the  head  and  foot,  is  inscribed  with  the 
name  of  the  dead,  the  time  and  place  of  his  birth,  and  the 
time  when,  to  use  their  own  language,  he  "  departed,"  and 
this  is  the  sole  epitaph.  But  innovations  have  been  recently 
made  on  this  simplicity  ;  a  rhyming  couplet  or  quatrain  is 
now  sometimes  added,  or  a  word  in  praise  of  the  dead 
One  recent  grave  was  loaded  with  a  thick  tablet  of  white 
marble,  which  covered  it  entirely,  and  bore  an  inscription 
as  voluminous  as  those  in  the  burial  places  of  other  denom- 
inations. The  graves,  as  in  all  Moravian  burying  grounds, 
are  arranged  in  regular  rows,  with  paths  at  right  angles 
between  them,  and  sometimes  a  rose-tree  is  planted  at  the 
head  of  the  sleeper. 


A     PENNSYLVANIA     OERMAN.  317 

As  we  were  leaving  Nazareth,  the  innkeeper  came  to 
us,  and  asked  if  we  would  allow  a  man  who  was  travelling 
to  Easton  to  take  a  seat  in  our  carriage  with  the  driver 
We  consented,  and  a  respectable-looking,  well-clad,  middle- 
aged  person,  made  his  appearance.  When  we  had  pro- 
ceeded a  little  way,  we  asked  him  some  questions,  to  which 
he  made  no  other  reply  than  to  shake  his  head,  and  we  soon 
found  that  he  understood  no  English.  I  tried  him  with 
German,  which  brought  a  ready  reply  in  the  same  language. 
He  was  a  native  of  Pennsylvania,  he  told  me,  born  at  Snow 
Hill,  in  Lehigh  county,  not  very  many  miles  from  Nazareth. 
In  turn,  he  asked  me  where  I  came  from,  and  when  I  bid 
him  guess,  he  assigned  my  birthplace  to  Germany,  which 
showed  at  least  that  he  was  not  very  accurately  instructed 
in  the  diversities  with  which  his  mother  tongue  is  spoken. 

As  we  entered  Easton,  the  yellow  woods  on  the  hills  and 
peaks  that  surround  the  place,  were  lit  up  with  a  glowing 
autumnal  sunset.  Soon  afterward  we  crossed  the  Lehigh, 
and  took  a  walk  along  its  bank  in  South  Easton,  where  a 
little  town  has  recently  grown  up  ;  the  sidewalks  along  its 
dusty  streets  were  freshly  swept  for  Saturday  night.  As  it 
began  to  grow  dark,  we  found  ourselves  strolling  in  front  of 
a  row  of  iron  mills,  with  the  canal  on  one  side  and  the 
Lehigh  on  the  other.  One  of  these  was  a  rolling  mill,  into 
which  we  could  look  from  the  bank  where  we  stood,  and 
observe  the  whole  process  of  the  manufacture,  which  is  very 
striking. 

27* 


318  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER.. 

The  whole  interior  of  the  building  is  lighted  at  night  only 
by  the  mouths  of  several  furnaces,  which  are  kindled  to  a 
white  heat.  Out  of  one  of  these  a  thick  bar  of  iron,  about 
six  feet  in  length  and  heated  to  a  perfect  whiteness,  is 
drawn,  and  one  end  of  it  presented  to  the  cylinders  of  the 
mill,  which  seize  it  and  draw  it  through  between  them, 
rolled  out  to  three  or  four  times  its  original  size.  A  sooty 
workman  grasps  the  opposite  end  of  the  bar  with  pincers  as 
soon  as  it  is  fairly  through,  and  returns  it  again  to  the 
cylinders,  which  deliver  it  again  on  the  opposite  side.  In 
this  way  it  passes  backward  and  forward  till  it  is  rolled  into 
an  enormous  length,  and  shoots  across  the  black  floor  with  a 
twining  motion  like  a  serpent  of  fire.  At  last,  when  pressed 
to  the  proper  thinness  and  length,  it  is  coiled  up  into  a  circle 
by  the  help  of  a  machine  contrived  for  the  purpose,  which 
rolls  it  up  as  a  shopkeeper  rolls  up  a  ribbon. 

We  found  a  man  near  where  we  stood,  begrimed  by  the 
soot  of  the  furnaces,  handling  the  clumsy  masses  of  iron 
which  bear  the  name  of  bloom.  The  rolling  mill,  he  said, 
belonged  to  Rodenbough,  Stewart  &  Co.,  who  had  very 
extensive  contracts  for  furnishing  iron  to  the  nailrnakers 
and  wire  manufacturers. 

"  Will  they  stop  the  mill  for  the  new  tariff?"  said  I. 

"  They  will  stop  for  nothing,"  replied  the  man.  "  The 
new  tariff  is  a  good  tariff,  if  people  would  but  think  so.  It 
costs  the  iron-masters  fifteen  dollars  a  ton  to  make  their 
iron,  and  they  sell  it  for  forty  dollars  a  ton.  If  the  new 


REVOLUTIONS     OF     OPINION.  319 

tariff'  obliges  them  to  sell  it  for  considerable  less  they  will 
still  make  money." 

So  revolves  the  cycle  of  opinion.  Twenty  years  ago  a 
Pennsylvanian  who  questioned  the  policy  of  the  protective 
system  would  have  been  looked  upon  as  a  sort  of  curiosity. 
Now  the  bloomers  and  stable-boys  begin  to  talk  free  trade. 
What  will  they  talk  twenty  years  hence  ? 


320  LETTERS    OP     A     TRAVELLER. 


LETTER    XL. 

BOS  TON. — LAW  R  E  N  C  E. P  O  R  T  L  A  H  D. 

PORTLAND,  July  31,  1847.  * 

I  LEFT  Boston  for  this  place,  a  few  days  since,  by  one  of 
the  railways.  I  never  come  to  Boston  or  go  out  of  it 
without  being  agreeably  struck  with  the  civility  and  respec- 
table appearance  of  the  hackney-coachmen,  the  porters,  and 
others  for  whose  services  the  traveller  has  occasion.  You 
feel,  generally,  in  your  intercourse  with  these  persons  that 
you  are  dealing  with  men  who  have  a  character  to  main- 
tain. 

There  is  a  sober  substantial  look  about  the  dwellings  of 
Boston,  which  pleases  me  more  than  the  gayer  aspect  of  our 
own  city.  In  New  York  we  are  careful  to  keep  the  outside 
of  our  houses  fresh  with  paint,  a  practice  which  does  not 
exist  here,  and  which  I  suppose  we  inherited  from  the 
Hollanders,  who  learned  it  I  know  not  where — could  it 
have  been  from  the  Chinese  ?  The  country  houses  of 
Holland,  along  the  canals,  are  bright  with  paint,  often 
of  several  different  colors,  and  are  as  gay  as  pagodas.  In 
their  moist  climate,  where  mould  and  moss  so  speedily 


THE     NEW    CITY    OF     LAWRENCE.  321 

gather,  the  practice  may  be  founded  in  better  reasons  than 
it  is  with  us. 

"  Boston,"  said  a  friend  to  whom  I  spoke  of  the  appear- 
ance of  comfort  and  thrift  in  that  city,  "  is  a  much  more 
crowded  place  than  you  imagine,  and  where  people  are 
crowded  there  can  not  be  comfort.  In  many  of  the  neigh- 
borhoods, back  of  those  houses  which  present  so  respectable 
an  aspect,  are  buildings  rising  close  to  each  other,  inhabited 
by  the  poorer  class,  whose  families  are  huddled  together 
without  sufficient  space  and  air,  and  here  it  is  that  Boston 
poverty  hides  itself.  You  are  more  fortunate  on  your  island, 
that  your  population  can  extend  itself  horizontally,  instead 
of  heaping  itself  up,  as  we  have  begun  to  do  here." 

The  first  place  which  we  could  call  pleasant  after  leaving 
Boston  was  Andover,  where  Stuart  and  Woods,  now  vener- 
able with  years,  instruct  the  young  orthodox  ministers  and 
missionaries  of  New  England.  It  is  prettily  situated  among 
green  declivities.  A  little  beyond,  at  North  Andover,  we 
came  in  sight  of  the  roofs  and  spires  of  the  new  city  of  Law- 
rence, which  already  begin  to  show  proudly  on  the  sandy 
and  sterile  banks  of  the  Merrimac,  a  rapid  and  shallow 
river.  A  year  ago  last  February,  the  building  of  the  city 
was  begun  ;  it  has  now  five  or  six  thousand  inhabitants, 
and  new  colonists  are  daily  thronging  in.  Brick  kilns  are 
smoking  all  over  the  country  to  supply  materials  for  the 
walls  of  the  dwellings.  The  place,  I  was  told,  astonishes 
visitors  with  its  bustle  and  confusion.  The  streets  are  en- 


322  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

cumbered  with  heaps  of  fresh  earth,  and  piles  of  stone,  brick, 
beams,  and  boards,  and  people  can  with  difficulty  hear  each 
other  speak,  for  the  constant  thundering  of  hammers,  and 
the  shouts  of  cartmen  and  wagoners  urging  their  oxen  and 
horses  with  their  loads  through  the  deep  sand  of  the  ways. 
"  Before  the  last  shower,"  said  a  passenger,  "  you  could 
hardly  see  the  city  from  this  spot,  on  account  of  the  cloud 
of  dust  that  hung  perpetually  over  it." 

"  Rome,"  says  the  old  adage,  "  was  not  built  in  a  day," 
but  here  is  a  city  which,  in  respect  of  its  growth,  puts 
Rome  to  shame.  The  Romulus  of  this  new  city,  who  like 
the  Latian  of  old,  gives  his  name  to  the  community  of  which 
he  is  the  founder,  is  Mr.  Abbot  Lawrence,  of  Boston,  a  rich 
manufacturer,  money-making  and  munificent,  and  more 
fortunate  in  building  cities  and  endowing  schools,  than  in 
foretelling  political  events.  He  is  the  modern  Amphion,  to 
the  sound  of  whose  music,  the  pleasant  chink  of  dollars 
gathered  in  many  a  goodly  dividend,  all  the  stones  which 
form  the  foundation  of  this  Thebes  dance  into  their  places, 

"  And  half  the  mountain  rolls  into  a  walL" 

Beyond  Lawrence,  in  the  state  of  New  Hampshire,  the 
train  stopped  a  moment  at  Exeter,  which  those  who  delight 
in  such  comparisons  might  call  the  Eton  of  New  England. 
It  is  celebrated  for  its  academy,  where  Bancroft,  Everett, 
and  I  know  not  how  many  more  of  the  New  England 
scholars  and  men  of  letters,  received  the  first  rudiments  of 


OAK     GILOVE.  323 

their  education.  It  lies  in  a  gentle  depression  of  the  surface 
of  the  country,  not  deep  enough  to  be  called  a  valley,  on  the 
banks  of  a  little  stream,  and  has  a  pleasant  retired  aspect. 
At  Durham,  some  ten  miles  further  on,  we  found  a  long 
train  of  freight-care  crowded  with  the  children  of  a  Sunday- 
school,  just  ready  to  set  out  on  a  pic-nic  party,  the  boys 
shouting,  and  the  girls,  of  whom  the  number  was  prodi- 
gious, showing  us  their  smiling  faces.  A  few  middle-aged 
men,  and  a  still  greater  number  of  matrons,  were  dispersed 
among  them  to  keep  them  in  order.  At  Dover,  where  are 
several  cotton  mills,  we  saw  a  similar  train,  with  a  still 
larger  crowd,  and  when  we  crossed  the  boundary  of  New 
Hampshire  and  entered  South  Berwick  in  Maine,  we  passed 
through  a  solitary  forest  of  oaks,  where  long  tables  and 
benches  had  been  erected  for  their  reception,  and  the  birds 
were  twittering  in  the  branches  over  them. 

At  length  the  sight  of  numerous  groups  gathering  blue- 
berries, in  an  extensive  tract  of  shrubby  pasture,  indicated 
that  we  were  approaching  a  town,  and  in  a  few  minutes  we 
had  arrived  at  Portland.  The  conductor,  whom  we  found 
intelligent  and  communicative,  recommended  that  we 
should  take  quarters,  during  our  stay,  at  a  place  called  the 
Veranda,  or  Oak  Grove,  on  the  water,  about  two  miles 
from  the  town,  and  we  followed  his  advice.  We  drove 
through  Portland,  which  is  nobly  situated  on  an  eminence 
overlooking  Casco  Bay,  its  maze  of  channels,  and  almost 
innumerable  islands,  with  their  green  slopes,  cultivated 


324  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

folds,  and  rocky  shores.  We  passed  one  arm  of  the  sea 
after  another  on  bridges,  and  at  length  found  ourselves  on  a 
fine  bold  promontory,  between  Presumpscot  river  and  the 
waters  of  Casco  Bay.  Here  a  house  of  entertainment  has 
just  been  opened — the  beginning  of  a  new  watering-place, 
which  I  am  sure  will  become  a  favorite  one  in  the  hot 
months  of  our  summers.  The  surrounding  country  is  so  in- 
tersected with  straits,  that,  let  the  wind  come  from  what 
quarter  it  may,  it  breathes  cool  over  the  waters ;  and  the 
tide,  rising  twelve  feet,  can  not  ebb  and  flow  without  push- 
ing forward  the  air  and  drawing  it  back  again,  and  thus 
causing  a  motion  of  the  atmosphere  in  the  stillest  weather. 

We  passed  twenty-four  hours  in  this  pleasant  retreat, 
among  the  oaks  of  its  grove,  and  along  its  rocky  shores, 
enjoying  the  agreeable  coolness  of  the  fresh  and  bracing 
itmosphere.  To  tell  the  truth  we  have  found  it  quite  cool 
enough  ever  since  we  reached  Boston,  five  days  ago  ;  some- 
times, in  fact,  a  little  too  cool  for  the  thin  garments  we  are 
accustomed  to  wear  at  this  season.  Returning  to  Portland, 
we  took  passage  in  the  steamer  Huntress,  for  Augusta,  up 
the  Kennebeck.  I  thought  to  give  you,  in  this  letter,  an 
account  of  this  part  of  my  journey,  but  I  find  I  must  reserve 
it  for  my  next. 


ISLANDS     OF     CASCO    BAY.  325 


LETTER   XLI. 

THE    KENNEBECK. 

KEENE,  New  Hampshire,  August  11,  1847. 

WE  left  Portland  early  in  the  afternoon,  on  board  the 
steamer  Huntress,  and  swept  out  of  the  harbor,  among  the 
numerous  green  islands  which  here  break  the  swell  of 
the  Atlantic,  and  keep  the  water  almost  as  smooth  as  that 
of  the  Hudson.  "  It  is  said,"  remarked  a  passenger,  "  that 
there  are  as  many  of  these  islands  as  there  are  days  in  the 
jvar,  but  I  do  not  know  that  any  body  has  ever  counted 
them  "  Two  of  the  loftiest,  rock-bound,  with  verdant  sum- 
mits, and  standing  out  beyond  the  rest,  overlooking  the  main 
ocean,  bore  light-houses,  and  near  these  we  entered  the 
mouth  of  the  Kennebeck,  which  here  comes  into  the  sea 
between  banks  of  massive  rock. 

At  the  mouth  of  the  river  were  forests  of  stakes,  for  the 
support  of  the  nets  in  which  salmon,  shad,  and  alewives  are 
taken.  The  shad  fishery,  they  told  me,  was  not  yet  over, 
though  the  month  of  August  was  already  come.  We  passed 
some  small  villages  where  we  saw  the  keels  of  large  un- 
finished vessels  lying  high  upon  the  stocks  ;  at  Bath,  one  of 
the  most  considerable  of  these  places,  but  a  small  village 
28 


326  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

still,  were  five  or  six,  on  which  the  ship-builders  were  busy 
These,  I  was  told,  when  once  launched  would  never  be  seen 
again  in  the  place  where  they  were  built,  but  would  convey 
merchandise  between  the  great  ports  of  the  world. 

"  The  activity  of  ship-building  in  the  state  of  Maine," 
said  a  gentleman  whom  I  afterward  met,  "is  at  this  mo- 
ment far  greater  than  you  can  form  any  idea  of,  without 
travelling  along  our  coast.  In  solitary  places  where  a 
stream  or  creek  large  enough  to  float  a  ship  is  found,  our 
builders  lay  the  keels  of  their  vessels.  It  is  not  necessary 
that  the  channel  should  be  wide  enough  for  the  ship  to  turn 
round  ;  it  is  enough  if  it  will  contain  her  lengthwise.  They 
choose  a  bend  in  the  river  from  which  they  can  launch  her 
with  her  head  down  stream,  and,  aided  by  the  tide,  float 
her  out  to  sea,  after  which  she  proceeds  to  Boston  or  New 
York,  or  some  other  of  our  large  seaports  to  do  her  part  in 
carrying  on  the  commerce  of  the  world." 

I  learned  that  the  ship-builders  of  Maine  purchase  large 
tracts  of  forest  in  Virginia  and  other  states  of  the  south,  for 
their  supply  of  timber.  They  obtain  their  oaks  from  the 
Virginia  shore,  their  hard  pine  from  North  Carolina ;  the 
coverings  of  the  deck  and  the  smaller  timbers  of  the  large 
vessels  are  furnished  by  Maine.  They  take  to  the  south 
cargoes  of  lime  and  other  products  of  Maine,  and  bring  back 
the  huge  trunks  produced  in  that  region.  The  larger  trees 
on  the  banks  of  the  navigable  rivers  of  Maine  were  long  ago 
wrought  into  the  keels  of  vessels. 


A     SEAL     IN     THE     KENNEBECK.  327 

It  was  not  far  from  Bath,  and  a  considerable  distance 
from  the  open  sea,  that  we  saw  a  large  seal  on  a  rock  in 
the  river.  He  turned  his  head  slowly  from  side  to  side  as 
we  passed,  without  allowing  himself  to  be  disturbed  by  the 
noise  we  made,  and  kept  his  place  as  long  as  the  eye  could 
distinguish  him.  The  presence  of  an  animal  always  associa- 
ted in  the  imagination  with  uninhabited  coasts  of  the  ocean, 
made  us  feel  that  we  were  advancing  into  a  thinly  or  at 
least  a  newly  peopled  country. 

Above  Bath,  the  channel  of  the  Kennebeck  widens  into 
what  is  called  Merrymeeting  Bay.  Here  the  great  Andro- 
scoggin  brings  in  its  waters  from  the  southwest,  and  various 
other  small  streams  from  different  quarters  enter  the  bay, 
making  it  a  kind  of  Congress  of  Rivers.  It  is  full  of  wooded 
islands  and  rocky  promontories  projecting  into  the  water  and 
overshading  it  with  their  trees.  As  we  passed  up  we  saw, 
from  time  to  time,  farms  pleasantly  situated  on  the  islands 
or  the  borders  of  the  river,  where  a  soil  more  genial  or 
more  easily  tilled  had  tempted  the  settler  to  fix  himself. 
At  length  we  approached  Gardiner,  a  flourishing  village, 
beautifully  situated  among  the  hills  on  the  right  bank  of 
the  Kennebeck.  All  traces  of  sterility  had  already  disap- 
peared from  the  country ;  the  shores  of  the  river  were  no 
longer  rock-bound,  but  disposed  in  green  terraces,  with 
woody  eminences  behind  them.  Leaving  Gardiner  behind 
us,  we  went  on  to  Hallowell,  a  village  bearing  similar 
marks  of  prosperity,  where  we  landed,  and  were  taken  iu 


328  LETTERS    OF    A     TRAVELLER. 

carriages  to  Augusta,  the  seat  of  government,  three  or  four 
miles  heyond. 

Augusta  is  a  pretty  village,  seated  on  green  and  appa- 
rently fertile  eminences  that  overlook  the  Kennebeck,  and 
itself  overlooked  by  still  higher  summits,  covered  with  woods, 
The  houses  are  neat,  and  shaded  with  trees,  as  is  the  case 
with  all  New  England  villages  in  the  agricultural  districts. 
I  found  the  Legislature  in  session  ;  the  Senate,  a  small  quiet 
body,  deliberating  for  aught  I  could  see,  with  as  much  grave 
and  tranquil  dignity  as  the  Senate  of  the  United  States. 
The  House  of  Representatives  was  just  at  the  moment  occu- 
pied by  some  railway  question,  which  I  was  told  excited 
more  feeling  than  any  subject  that  had  been  debated  in  the 
whole  session,  but  even  this  occasioned  no  unseemly  agita- 
tion ;  the  surface  was  gently  rippled,  nothing  more. 

While  at  Augusta,  we  crossed  the  river  and  visited  the 
Insane  Asylum,  a  state  institution,  lying  on  the  pleasant  de- 
clivities of  the  opposite  shore.  It  is  a  handsome  stone  build- 
ing. One  of  the  medical  attendants  accompanied  us  over 
a  part  of  the  building,  and  showed  us  some  of  the  wards  in 
which  there  were  then  scarcely  any  patients,  and  which  ap- 
peared to  be  in  excellent  order,  with  the  best  arrangements 
for  the  comfort  of  the  inmates,  and  a  scrupulous  attention 
to  cleanliness.  Whan  we  expressed  a  desire  to  see  the  pa- 
tients, and  to  learn  something  of  the  manner  in  which  they 
were  treated,  he  replied,  "  We  do  not  make  a  show  of  our 
patients  ;  we  only  show  the  building."  Our  visit  was,  of 


MULTITUDE     OF     LAKES.  329 

course,  soon  dispatched.  We  learned  afterward  that  this 
was  either  insolence  or  laziness  on  the  part  of  the  officer  in 
question,  whose  business  it  properly  was  to  satisfy  any  rea- 
sonable curiosity  expressed  by  visitors. 

It  had  been  our  intention  to  cross  the  country  from  Au- 
gusta directly  to  the  White  Hills  in  New  Hampshire,  and 
we  took  seats  in  the  stage-coach  with  that  view.  Back  of 
Augusta  the  country  swells  into  hills  of  considerable  height 
with  deep  hollows  between,  in  which  lie  a  multitude  of 
lakes.  We  passed  several  of  these,  beautifully  embosomed 
among  woods,  meadows,  and  pastures,  and  were  told  that  if 
we  continued  on  the  course  we  had  taken  we  should  scarcely 
ever  find  ourselves  without  some  sheet  of  water  in  sight  till 
we  arrived  at  Fryeburg  on  the  boundary  between  Maine 
and  New  Hampshire.  One  of  them,  in  the  township  of 
Winthrop,  struck  us  as  particularly  beautiful.  Its  shores  are 
clean  and  bold,  with  little  promontories  running  far  into  the 
water,  and  several  small  islands. 

At  Winthrop  we  found  that  the  coach  in  which  we  set 
out  would  proceed  to  Portland,  and  that  if  we  intended  to 
go  on  to  Fryeburg,  we  must  take  seats  in  a  shabby  wagon, 
without  the  least  protection  for  our  baggage.  It  was  already 
beginning  to  rain,  and  this  circumstance  decided  us  ;  we  re- 
mained in  the  coach  and  proceeded  on  our  return  to  Port- 
land. I  have  scarcely  ever  travelled  in  a  country  which 
presented  a  finer  appearance  of  agricultural  thrift  and  pros- 
perity than  the*  portions  of  the  counties  of  Kennebeck  and 


330  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

Cumberland,  through  which  our  road  carried  us.  The  dwell- 
ings are  large,  neatly  painted,  surrounded  with  fruit-trees 
and  shrubs,  and  the  farms  in  excellent  order,  and  apparently 
productive.  We  descended  at  length  into  the  low  country, 
crossed  the  Androscoggin  to  the  county  of  York,  where,  as  we 
proceeded,  the  country  became  more  sandy  and  sterile,  and 
the  houses  had  a  neglected  aspect.  At  length,  after  a  jour- 
ney of  fifty  or  sixty  miles  in  the  rain,  we  were  again  set 
down  in  the  pleasant  town  of  Portland. 


THE     \YJLLKY     HOUSE.  331 


LETTER   XLIL 

THE     WHITE     MOUNTAINS. 

SPRINGFIELD,  Mass.,  August  13,  1847. 

I  HAD  not  space  in  my  last  letter,  which  was  written 
from  Keene,  in  New  Hampshire,  to  speak  of  a  visit  I  had 
just  made  to  the  White  Mountains.  Do  not  think  I  am 
going  to  bore  you  with  a  set  description  of  my  journey  and 
ascent  of  Mount  Washington  ;  a  few  notes  of  the  excursion 
may  possibly  amuse  you. 

From  Conway,  where  the  stage-coach  sets  you  down  for 
the  night,  in  sight  of  the  summits  of  the  mountains,  the 
road  to  the  Old  Notch  is  a  very  picturesque  one.  You  follow 
the  path  of  the  Saco  along  a  wide  valley,  sometimes  in  the 
woods  that  overhang  its  bank,  and  sometimes  on  the  edge 
of  rich  grassy  meadows,  till  at  length,  as  you  leave  behind 
you  one  summit  after  another,  you  find  yourself  in  a  little 
plain,  apparently  inclosed  on  every  side  by  mountains. 

Further  on  you  enter  the  deep  gorge  which  leads  grad- 
ually upward  to  the  Notch.  In  the  midst  of  it  is  situated 
the  Willey  House,  near  which  the  Willey  family  were 
overtaken  by  an  avalanche  and  perished  as  they  were 
making  their  escape.  It  is  now  enlarged  into  a  house  of 


332  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

accommodation  for  visitors  to  the  mountains.  Nothing  can 
exceed  the  aspect  of  desolation  presented  hy  the  lofty 
mountain-ridges  which  rise  on  each  side.  They  are 
streaked  with  the  paths  of  landslides,  occurring  at  different 
periods,  which  have  left  the  rocky  ribs  of  the  mountains 
bare  from  their  bald  tops  to  the  forests  at  their  feet,  and 
have  filled  the  sides  of  the  valley  with  heaps  of  earth, 
gravel,  stones,  and  trunks  of  trees. 

From  the  Willey  house  you  ascend,  for  about  two  miles, 
a  declivity,  by  no  means  steep,  with  these  dark  ridges 
frowning  over  you,  your  path  here  and  there  crossed  by 
streams  which  have  made  for  themselves  passages  in  the 
granite  sides  of  the  mountains  like  narrow  staircases,  down 
which  they  come  tumbling  from  one  vast  block  to  another. 
I  afterward  made  acquaintance  with  two  of  these,  and 
followed  them  upward  from  one  clear  pool  and  one  white 
cascade  to  another  till  I  was  tired.  The  road  at  length 
passes  through  what  may  be  compared  to  a  natural  gate- 
way, a  narrow  chasm  between  tall  cliffs,  and  through  which 
the  Saco,  now  a  mere  brook,  finds  its  way.  You  find  your- 
self in  a  green  opening,  looking  like  the  bottom  of  a  drained 
lake  with  mountain  summits  around  you.  Here  is  one  of 
the  houses  of  accommodation  from  which  you  ascend  Mount 
Washington. 

If  you  should  ever  think  of  ascending  Mount  Washington, 
do  not  allow  any  of  the  hotel-keepers  to  cheat  you  in  regard 
to  the  distance.  It  is  about  ten  miles  from  either  the 


S  C  E  X  E  II  V     O  F     T  II  E      \V  II  I  T  E      M  O  C  N  T  A  I  N  S.          333 

hotels  to  the  summit,  and  very  little  less  from  any  of 
them.  They  keep  a  set  of  worn-out  horses,  which  they 
hire  for  the  season,  and  which  are  trained  to  climb  the 
mountain,  in  a  walk,  by  the  worst  bridle-paths  in  the  world. 
The  poor  hacks  are  generally  tolerably  sure-footed,  but 
there  are  exceptions  to  this.  Guides  are  sent  with  the 
visitors,  who  generally  go  on  foot,  strong-legged  men,  carry- 
ing long  staves,  and  watching  the  ladies  lest  any  accident 
should  occur  ;  some  of  these,  especially  those  from  the  house 
in  the  Notch,  commonly  called  Tom  Crawford's,  are  un- 
mannerly fellows  enough. 

The  scenery  of  these  mountains  has  not  been  sufficiently 
praised.  But  for  the  glaciers,  but  for  the  peaks  white  with 
perpetual  snow,  it  would  be  scarcely  worth  while  to  see 
Switzerland  after  seeing  the  White  Mountains.  The  depth 
of  the  valleys,  the  steepness  of  the  mountain-sides,  the 
variety  of  aspect  shown  by  their  summits,  the  deep  gulfs  of 
forest  below,  seamed  with  the  open  courses  of  rivers,  the 
vast  extent  of  the  mountain  region  seen  north  and  south  of 
us,  gleaming  with  many  lakes,  took  me  with  surprise  and 
astonishment.  Imagine  the  forests  to  be  shorn  from  half 
the  broad  declivities — imagine  scattered  habitations  on  the 
thick  green  turf  and  footpaths  leading  from  one  to  the  other, 
and  herds  and  flocks  browzing,  and  you  have  Switzerland 
before  you.  I  admit,  however,  that  these  accessories  add  to 
the  variety  and  interest  of  the  landscape,  and  perhaps 
heighten  the  idea  of  its  vastness. 


334  LETTERS    OF    A     TRAVELLER. 

I  have  been  told,  however,  that  the  White  Mountains  in 
autumn  present  an  aspect  more  glorious  than  even  the 
splendors  of  the  perpetual  ice  of  the  Alps.  All  this  mighty 
multitude  of  mountains,  rising  from  valleys  filled  with  dense 
forests,  have  then  put  on  their  hues  of  gold  and  scarlet,  and, 
seen  more  distinctly  on  account  of  their  brightness  of  color, 
seem  to  tower  higher  in  the  clear  blue  of  the  sky.  At  that 
season  of  the  year  they  are  little  visited,  and  only  awaken 
the  wonder  of  the  occasional  traveller. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  ascend  Mount  Washington,  to  enjoy 
the  finest  views.  Some  of  the  lower  peaks  offer  grander 
though  not  so  extensive  ones  ;  the  height  of  the  main  sum- 
mit seems  to  diminish  the  size  of  the  objects  beheld  from  it. 
The  sense  of  solitude  and  immensity  is  however  most 
strongly  felt  on  that  great  cone,  overlooking  all  the  rest, 
and  formed  of  loose  rocks,  which  seem  as  if  broken  into  frag- 
ments by  the  power  which  upheaved  these  ridges  from  the 
depths  of  the  earth  below.  At  some  distance  on  the  north- 
ern side  of  one  of  the  summits,  I  saw  a  large  snow-drift  lying 
in  the  August  sunshine. 

The  Franconia  Notch,  which  we  afterwards  visited,  is 
almost  as  remarkable  for  the  two  beautiful  little  lakes  within 
it,  as  for  the  savage  grandeur  of  the  mountain- walls  between 
which  it  passes.  At  this  place  I  was  shown  a  hen  clucking 
over  a  brood  of  young  puppies.  They  were  littered  near 
the  nest  where  she  was  sitting,  when  she  immediately 
abandoned  her  eggs  and  adopted  them  as  her  offspring. 


A     HEN     MOTHER     OF     PUPPIES.  335 

She  had  a  battle  with  the  mother,  and  proved  victorious; 
after  which,  however,  a  compromise  took  place,  the  slut 
nursing  the  puppies  and  the  hen  covering  them  as  well  as 
she  could  with  her  wings.  She  was  strutting  among  them 
when  I  saw  her,  with  an  appearance  of  pride  at  having 
produced  so  gigantic  a  brood. 

From  Franconia  we  proceeded  to  Bath,  on  or  near  the 
Connecticut,  and  entered  the  lovely  valley  of  that  river, 
which  is  as  beautiful  in  New  Hampshire,  as  in  any  part  of 
its  course.  Hanover,  the  seat  of  Dartmouth  College,  is  a 
pleasant  spot,  but  the  traveller  will  find  there  the  worst 
hotels  on  the  river.  Windsor,  on  the  Vermont  side,  is  a  still 
finer  village,  with  trim  gardens  and  streets  shaded  by  old 
trees ;  Bellows  Falls  is  one  of  the  most  striking  places  for 
its  scenery  in  all  New  England.  The  coach  brought  us  to 
the  railway  station  in  the  pleasant  village  of  Greenfield. 
We  took  seats  in  the  train,  and  leaving  on  our  left  the  quiet 
old  streets  of  Deerfield  under  their  ancient  trees,  and  passing 
a  dozen  or  more  of  the  villages  on  the  meadows  of  the  Con- 
necticut, found  ourselves  in  less  than  two  hours  in  this 
nourishing  place,  which  is  rapidly  rising  to  be  one  of  the 
most  important  towns  in  New  England. 


336  LETTERS     OF    A    TRAVELLER. 


LETTER    XLIII. 

A    PASSAGE     TO    SAVANNAH. 

AUGUSTA,  Georgia,  March  29,  1849. 

A  QUIET  passage  by  sea  from  New  York  to  Savannah 
would  seem  to  aflbrd  little  matter  for  a  letter,  yet  those  who 
take  the  trouble  to  read  what  I  am  about  to  write,  will,  I 
hope,  admit  that  there  are  some  things  to  be  observed,  even 
on  such  a  voyage.  It  was  indeed  a  remarkably  quiet  one, 
and  worthy  of  note  on  that  account,  if  on  no  other.  We  had 
a  quiet  vessel,  quiet  weather,  a  quiet,  good-natured  captain, 
a  quiet  crew,  and  remarkably  quiet  passengers. 

When  we  left  the  wharf  at  New  York  last  week,  in  the 
good  steamship  Tennessee,  we  were  not  conscious,  at  first, 
as  we  sat  in  the  cabin,  that  she  was  in  motion  and  proceed- 
ing down  the  harbor.  There  was  no  beating  or  churning  of 
the  sea,  no  struggling  to  get  forward  ;  her  paddles  played  in 
the  water  as  smoothly  as  those  of  a  terrapin,  without  jar  or 
noise.  The  Tennessee  is  one  of  the  tightest  and  strongest 
boats  that  navigate  our  coast ;  the  very  flooring  of  her  deck 
is  composed  of  timbers  instead  of  planks,  and  helps  to  keep 
her  massive  frame  more  compactly  and  solidly  together.  It 
was  her  first  voyage  ;  her  fifty-one  passengers  lolled  on  sofas 


PASSENGERS     IN     THE     STEAMER.  337 

fresh  from  the  upholsterer's,  and  slept  on  mattresses  which 
had  never  been  pressed  by  the  human  form  before,  in  state- 
rooms where  foul  air  had  never  collected.  Nor  is  it  possible 
that  the  air  should  become  impure  in  them  to  any  great  de- 
gree, for  the  Tennessee  is  the  best-ventilated  ship  I  ever  was 
in  ;  the  main  cabin  and  the  state-rooms  are  connected  with 
each  other  and  with  the  deck,  by  numerous  openings  and  pipes 
which  keep  up  a  constant  circulation  of  air  in  every  part. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  passengers  as  remarkably  quiet  per- 
sons. Several  of  them,  I  believe,  never  spoke  during  the 
passage,  at  least  so  it  seemed  to  me.  The  silence  would 
have  been  almost  irksome,  but  for  two  lively  little  girls  who 
amused  us  by  their  prattle,  and  two  young  women,  appa- 
rently just  married,  too  happy  to  do  any  thing  but  laugh,  even 
when  suffering  from  seasickness,  and  whom  we  now  and 
then  heard  shouting  and  squealing  from  their  state-rooms. 
There  were  two  dark-haired,  long-limbed  gentlemen,  who 
lay  the  greater  part  of  the  first  and  second  day  at  full  length 
on  the  sofas  in  the  after-cabin,  each  with  a  spittoon  before 
him,  chewing  tobacco  with  great  rapidity  and  industry,  and 
apparently  absorbed  in  the  endeavor  to  fill  it  within  a  given 
time.  There  was  another,  with  that  atrabilious  complexion 
peculiar  to  marshy  countries,  and  circles  of  a  still  deeper  hue 
about  his  eyes,  who  sat  on  deck,  speechless  and  motionless, 
wholly  indifferent  to  the  sound  of  the  dinner-bell,  his  coun- 
tenance fixed  in  an  expression  which  seemed  to  indicate  an 
utter  disgust  of  life. 

29 


33b  .LETTERS     OF     A     T  R  A  V7 1:  L  L  E  II. 

Yet  Ave  had  some  snatches  of  good  talk  on  the  voyage.  A 
robust  old  gentleman,  a  native  of  Norwalk,  in  Connecticut, 
told  us  that  he  had  been  reading  a  history  of  that  place  by 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Hall. 

"  I  find,"  said  he,  "  that  in  his  account  of  the  remarkable 
people  of  Norwalk,  he  has  omitted  to  speak  of  two  of  the 
most  remarkable,  two  spinsters,  Sarah  and  Phebe  Comstock, 
relatives  of  mine  and  friends  of  rny  youth,  of  whom  I  retain 
a  vivid  recollection.  They  were  in  opulent  circumstances 
for  the  neighborhood  in  which  they  lived,  possessing  a  farm 
of  about  two  hundred  acres  ;  they  were  industrious,  frugal, 
and  extremely  charitable  ;  but  they  never  relieved  a  poor 
family  without  visiting  it,  and  inquiring  carefully  into  its 
circumstances.  Sarah  was  the  housekeeper,  and  Phebe  the 
farmer.  Phebe  knew  nothing  of  kitchen  matters,  but  she 
knew  at  what  time  of  the  year  greensward  should  be  broken 
up,  and  corn  planted,  and  potatoes  dug.  She  dropped  Indian 
corn  and  sowed  English  grain  with  her  own  hands.  In  the 
time  of  planting  or  of  harvest,  it  was  Sarah  who  visited  and 
relieved  the  poor. 

"  I  remember  that  they  had  various  ways  of  employing 
the  young  people  who  called  upon  them.  If  it  was  late  in 
the  autumn,  there  was  a  choppirig-board  and  chopping-knife 
ready,  with  the  feet  of  neat-cattle,  from  which  the  oily  parts 
had  been  extracted  by  boiling.  '  You  do  not  want  to  be 
idle,'  they  would  say,  '  chop  this  meat,  and  you  shall  have 
your  share  of  the  mince-pies  that  we  are  going  to  make.' 


OLD     TIMES     IN     CONNECTICUT.  339 

At  other  times  a  supply  of  old  woollen  stockings  were  ready 
for  unraveling.  '  We  know  you  do  not  care  to  be  idle,' 
they  would  say,  '  here  are  some  stockings  which  you  would 
oblige  us  by  unraveling.'  If  you  asked  what  use  they 
made  of  the  spools  of  woollen  thread  obtained  by  this  pro- 
cess, they  would  answer :  '  "We  use  it  as  the  weft  of  the 
linsey-woolsey  with  which  we  clothe  our  negroes.'  They 
had  negro  slaves  in  those  times,  and  old  Tone,  a  faithful 
black  servant  of  theirs,  who  has  seen  more  than  a  hundred 
years,  is  alive  yet. 

"  They  practiced  one  very  peculiar  piece  of  economy. 
The  white  hickory  you  know,  yields  the  purest  and  sweetest 
of  saccharine  juices.  They  had  their  hickory  fuel  cut  into 
short  billets,  which  before  placing  on  the  fire  they  laid  on 
the  andirons,  a  little  in  front  of  the  blaze,  so  as  to  subject  it 
to  a  pretty  strong  heat.  This  caused  the  syrup  in  the  wood 
to  drop  from  each  end  of  the  billet,  where  it  was  caught  in 
a  cup,  and  in  this  way  a  gallon  or  two  was  collected  in  the 
course  of  a  fortnight.  With  this  they  flavored  their  finest 
cakes. 

"  They  died  about  thirty  years  since,  one  at  the  age  of 
eighty-nine,  and  the  other  at  the  age  of  ninety.  On  the 
tomb-stone  of  one  of  them,  it  was  recorded  that  she  had 
been  a  member  of  the  church  for  seventy  years.  Their 
father  was  a  remarkable  man  in  his  way.  He  was  a  rich 
man  in  his  time,  and  kept  a  park  of  deer,  one  of  the  last 
known  in  Connecticut,  for  the  purpose  of  supplying  his  table 


340  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

with  venison.  He  prided  himself  on  the  strict  and  literal 
fulfillment  of  his  word.  On  one  occasion  he  had  a  law-suit 
with  one  of  his  neighbors,  before  a  justice  of  the  peace,  in 
which  he  was  cast  and  ordered  to  pay  ten  shillings  damages, 
and  a  shilling  as  the  fees  of  court.  He  paid  the  ten  shil- 
lings, and  asked  the  justice  whether  he  would  allow  him  to 
pay  the  remaining  shilling  when  he  next  passed  his  door. 
The  magistrate  readily  consented,  but  from  that  time  old 
Comstock  never  went  by  his  house.  Whenever  he  had  oc- 
casion to  go  to  church,  or  to  any  other  place,  the  direct  road 
to  which  led  by  the  justice's  door,  he  was  careful  to  take  a 
lane  which  passed  behind  the  dwelling,  and  at  some  dis- 
tance from  it.  The  shilling  remained  unpaid  up  to  the  day 
of  his  death,  and  it  was  found  that  in  his  last  will  he  had 
directed  that  his  corpse  should  be  carried  by  that  lane  to 
the  place  of  interment." 

When  we  left  the  quarantine  ground  on  Thursday  morn- 
ing, after  lying  moored  all  night  with  a  heavy  rain  beating 
on  the  deck,  the  sky  was  beginning  to  clear  with  a  strong 
northwest  wind  and  the  decks  were  slippery  with  ice. 
When  the  sun  rose  it  threw  a  cold  white  light  upon  the 
waters,  and  the  passengers  who  appeared  on  deck  were 
muffled  to  the  eyes.  As  we  proceeded  southwardly,  the 
temperature  grew  milder,  and  the  day  closed  with  a  calm 
and  pleasant  sunset.  The  next  day  the  weather  was  still 
milder,  until  about  noon,  when  we  arrived  off  Cape  Hat- 
teras  a  strong  wind  set  in  from  the  northeast,  clouds  gath- 


A     SOFTER     CLIMATE.  341 

ered  with  a  showery  aspect,  and  every  thing  seemed  to 
betoken  an  impending  storm.  At  this  moment  the  captain 
shifted  the  direction  of  the  voyage,  from  south  to  southwest ; 
we  ran  before  the  wind  leaving  the  storm,  if  there  was  any, 
behind  us,  and  the  day  closed  with  another  quiet  and  bril- 
liant sunset. 

The  next  day,  the  third  of  our  voyage,  broke  upon  us  like 
a  day  in  summer,  with  amber-colored  sunshine  and  the 
blandest  breezes  that  ever  blew.  An  awning  was  stretched 
over  the  deck  to  protect  us  from  the  beams  of  the  sun,  and 
all  the  passengers  gathered  under  it ;  the  two  dark-com- 
plexioned gentlemen  left  the  task  of  filling  the  spittoons  be- 
low, and  came  up  to  chew  their  tobacco  on  deck  ;  the  atra- 
bilious passenger  was  seen  to  interest  himself  in  the  direction 
of  the  compass,  and  once  was  thought  to  smile,  and  the  hale 
old  gentleman  repeated  the  history  of  his  Norwalk  relatives. 
On  the  fourth  morning  we  landed  at  Savannah.  It  was 
delightful  to  eyes  which  had  seen  only  russet  fields  and  leaf- 
less trees  for  months,  to  gaze  on  the  new  and  delicate  green 
of  the  trees  and  the  herbage.  The  weeping  willows  drooped 
in  full  leaf,  the  later  oaks  were  putting  forth  their  new 
foliage,  the  locust-trees  had  hung  out  their  tender  sprays  and 
their  clusters  of  blossoms  not  yet  unfolded,  the  Chinese 
wistaria  covered  the  sides  of  houses  with  its  festoons  of  blue 
blossoms,  and  roses  were  nodding  at  us  in  the  wind,  from  the 
tops  of  the*  brick  walls  which  surround  the  gardens. 

Yet  winter  had  been  here,  I  saw.  The  orange-trees  which, 
29* 


312  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 


since  the  great  frost  seven  or  eight  years  ago,  had  sprung 
from  the  ground  and  grown  to  the  height  of  fifteen  or  twenty 
feet,  had  a  few  days  before  my  arrival  felt  another  severe 
frost,  and  stood  covered  with  sere  dry  leaves  in  the  gardens, 
some  of  them  yet  covered  with  fruit.  The  trees  were  not 
killed,  however,  as  formerly,  though  they  will  produce  no 
fruit  this  season,  and  new  leaf-buds  were  beginning  to  sprout 
on  their  boughs.  The  dwarf-orange,  a  hardier  tree,  had 
escaped  entirely,  and  its  blossoms  were  beginning  to  open. 

I  visited  Bonaventure,  which  I  formerly  described  in 
one  of  my  letters.  It  has  lost  the  interest  of  utter  soli- 
tude and  desertion  which  it  then  had.  A  Gothic  cottage 
has  been  built  on  the  place,  and  the  avenues  of  live-oaks 
have  been  surrounded  with  an  inclosure,  for  the  purpose  of 
making  a  cemetery  on  the  spot.  Yet  there  they  stand,  as 
solemn  as  ever,  lifting  and  stretching  their  long  irregular 
branches  overhead,  hung  with  masses  and  festoons  of  gray 
moss.  It  almost  seemed,  when  I  looked  up  to  them,  as  if 
the  clouds  had  come  nearer  to  the  earth  than  is  their  wont, 
and  formed  themselves  into  the  shadowy  ribs  of  the  vault 
above  me.  The  drive  to  Bonaventure  at  this  season  of  the 
year  is  very  beautiful,  though  the  roads  are  sandy  ;  it  is 
partly  along  an  avenue  of  tall  trees,  and  partly  through 
the  woods,  where  the  dog-wood  and  azalea  and  thorn-trees 
are  in  blossom,  and  the  ground  is  sprinkled  with  flowers. 
Here  and  there  are  dwellings  beside  the  road.  *'  They  are 
unsafe  the  greater  part  of  the  year,"  said  the  gentleman  who 


VAST     QUANTITIES     OF     COTTON.  313 

drove  me  out,  and  who  spoke  from  professional  knowledge, 
"  a  summer  residence  in.  them  is  sure  to  bring  dangerous 
fevers."  Savannah  is  a  healthy  city,  but  it  is  like  Rome, 
imprisoned  by  malaria. 

The  city  of  Savannah,  since  I  saw  it  six  years  ago,  has 
enlarged  considerably,  and  the  additions  made  to  it  increase 
its  beauty.  The  streets  have  been  extended  on  the  south 
side,  on  the  same  plan  as  those  of  the  rest  of  the  city,  with 
small  parks  at  short  distances  from  each  other,  planted  with 
trees ;  and  the  new  houses  are  handsome  and  well-built. 
The  communications  opened  with  the  interior  by  long  lines 
of  railway  have,  no  doubt,  been  the  principal  occasion  of 
this  prosperity.  These  and  the  Savannah  river  send  enor- 
mous quantities  of  cotton  to  the  Savannah  market.  One 
should  see,  with  the  bodily  eye,  the  multitude  of  bales  of 
this  commodity  accumulating  in  the  warehouses  and  else- 
where, in  order  to  form  an  idea  of  the  extent  to  which  it  is 
produced  in  the  southern,  states — long  trains  of  cars  heaped 
with  bales,  steamer  after  steamer  loaded  high  with  bales 
coming  down  the  rivers,  acres  of  bales  on  the  wharves,  acres 
of  bales  at  the  railway  stations — one  should  see  all  this,  and 
then  carry  his  thoughts  to  the  millions  of  the  civilized  world 
who  are  clothed  by  this  great  staple  of  our  country. 

I  came  to  this  place  by  steamer  to  Charleston  and  then  by 
railway.  The  line  of  the  railway,  one  hundred  and  thirty- 
seven  miles  in  length,  passes  through  the  most  unproductive 
district  of  South  Carolina.  It  is  in  fact  nothing  but  a  waste 


344  LETTERS    OF     A    TRAVELLER. 

of  forest,  with  here  and  there  an  open  field,  half  a'  dozen 
glimpses  of  plantations,  and  about  as  many  villages,  none 
of  which  are  considerable,  and  some  of  which  consist  of  not 
more  than  half  a  dozen  houses.  Aiken,  however,  sixteen 
miles  before  you  reach  the  Savannah  river,  has  a  pleasant 
aspect.  It  is  situated  on  a  comparatively  high  tract  of 
country,  sandy  and  barren,  but  healthy,  and  hither  the 
planters  resort  in  the  hot  months  from  their  homes  in  the 
less  salubrious  districts.  Pretty  cottages  stand  dispersed 
among  the  oaks  and  pines,  and  immediately  west  of  the 
place  the  country  descends  in  pleasant  undulations  towards 
the  valley  of  the  Savannah. 

The  appearance  of  Augusta  struck  me  very  agreeably  as 
I  reached  it,  on  a  most  delightful  afternoon,  which  seemed 
to  me  more  like  June  than  March.  I  was  delighted  to  see 
turf  again,  regular  greensward  of  sweet  grasses  and  clover, 
such  as  you  see  in  May  in  the  northern  states,  and  do  not 
meet  on  the  coast  in  the  southern  states.  The  city  lies  on 
a  broad  rich  plain  on  the  Savannah  river,  with  woody 
declivities  to  the  north  and  west.  I  have  seen  several 
things  her  3  since  my  arrival  which  interested  me  much, 
and  if  I  can  command  time  I  will  speak  of  them  in  another 
letter. 


AUGUSTA     IN     GEORGIA.  345 


LETTER   XLIV. 

SOUTHERN    COTTON     MILLS. 

BAKNWELL  DISTRICT,  South  Carolina,  \ 
March  31,  1849.        f 

I  PROMISED  to  say  something  more  of  Augusta  if  I  had 
time  before  departing  from  Cuba,  and  I  find  that  I  have  a 
few  moments  to  spare  for  a  hasty  letter. 

The  people  of  Augusta  boast  of  the  beauty  of  their  place, 
and  not  without  some  reason.  The  streets  are  broad,  and 
in  some  parts  overshadowed  with  rows  of  fine  trees.  The 
banks  of  the  river  on  which  it  stands  are  high  and  firm, 
and  slopes  half  covered  with  forest,  of  a  pleasant  aspect,  over- 
look it  from  the  west  and  from  the  Carolina  side.  To  the 
south  stretches  a  broad  champaign  country,  on  which  are 
some  of  the  finest  plantations  of  Georgia.  I  visited  one  of 
these,  consisting  of  ten  thousand  acres,  kept  throughout  in 
as  perfect  order  as  a  small  farm  at  the  north,  though  large 
enough  for  a  German  principality. 

But  what  interested  me  most,  was  a  visit  to  a  cotton 
mill  in  the  neighborhood, — a  sample  of  a  class  of  manufac- 
turing establishments,  where  the  poor  white  people  of  this 
state  and  of  South  Carolina  find  occupation.  It  is  a  large 


346  LETTERS)     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

manufactory,  and  the  machinery  is  in  as  perfect  order  as  in 
any  of  the  mills  at  the  north.  "  Here,"  said  a  gentleman 
who  accompanied  us,  as  we  entered  the  long  apartment  in 
the  second  story,  "  you  will  see  a  sample  of  the  brunettes  of 
the  piny  woods." 

The  girls  of  various  ages,  who  are  employed  at  the 
spindles,  had,  for  the  most  part,  a  sallow,  sickly  com- 
plexion, and  in  many  of  their  faces,  I  remarked  that  look  of 
mingled  distrust  and  dejection  which  often  accompanies  the 
condition  of  extreme,  hopeless  poverty.  "  These  poor  girls,' 
said  one  of  our  party,  "  think  themselves  extremely  for 
tunate  to  be  employed  here,  and  accept  work  gladly.  Thej 
come  from  the  most  barren  parts  of  Carolina  and  Georgia, 
where  their  families  live  wretchedly,  often  upon  unwholesome 
food,  and  as  idly  as  wretchedly,  for  hitherto  there  has  been 
no  manual  occupation  provided  for  them  from  which  they 
do  not  shrink  as  disgraceful,  on  account  of  its  being  the 
occupation  of  slaves.  In  these  factories  negroes  are  not 
employed  as  operatives,  and  this  gives  the  calling  of  the 
factory  girl  a  certain  dignity.  You  would  be  surprised  to 
see  the  change  which  a  short  time  effects  in  these  poor 
people.  They  come  barefooted,  dirty,  and  in  rags  ;  they 
are  scoured,  put  into  shoes  and  stockings,  set  at  work  and 
sent  regularly  to  the  Sunday-schools,  where  they  are  taught 
what  none  of  them  have  been  taught  before — to  read  and 
write.  In  a  short  time  they  became  expert  at  their  work  ; 
they  lose  their  sullen  shyness,  and  their  physiognomy  becomes 


comparatively  open  and  cheerful.  Their  families  are  re- 
lieved from  the  temptations  to  theft  and  other  shameful 
courses  which  accompany  the  condition  of  poverty  without 
occupation.1' 

"  They  have  a  good  deal  of  the  poke-easy  manner  of  the 
piny  woods  about  them  yet,"  said  one  of  our  party,  a 
Georgian.  It  was  true,  I  perceived  that  they  had  not  yet 
acquired  all  that  alacrity  and  quickness  in  their  work 
which  you  see  in  the  work-people  of  the  New  England 
mills.  In  one  of  the-  upper  stories  I  saw  a  girl  of  a  clearer 
complexion  than  the  rest,  with  two  long  curls  swinging 
behind  each  ear,  as  she  stepped  about  with  the  air  of  9 
duchess.  "  That  girl  is  from  the  north,"  said  our  con- 
ductor;  "at  first  we  placed  an  expert  operative  from  the 
north  in  each  story  of  the  building  as  an  instructor  and 
pattern  to  the  rest." 

I  have  since  learned  that  some  attempts  were  made  at 
first  to  induce  the  poor  white  people  to  work  side  by  side 
with  the  blacks  in  these  mills.  These  utterly  failed,  and 
the  question  then  became  with  the  proprietors  whether 
they  should  employ  blacks  only  or  whites  only ;  whether 
they  should  give  these  poor  people  an  occupation  which, 
while  it  tended  to  elevate  their  condition,  secured  a  more 
expert  class  of  work-people  than  the  negroes  could  be  ex- 
pected to  become,  or  whether  they  should  rely  upon  the  less 
intelligent  and  more  negligent  services  of  slaves.  They  de- 
cided at  length  upon  banishing  the  labor  of  blacks  from  their 


J48  LKTTKRS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

mills.  At  Graniteville,  in  South  Carolina,  about  ten  miles 
from  the  Savannah  river,  a  neat  little  manufacturing  village 
has  lately  been  built  up,  where  the  families  of  the  crackers, 
as  they  are  called,  reclaimed  from  their  idle  lives  in  the 
woods,  are  settled,  and  white  labor  only  is  employed.  The 
enterprise  is  said  to  be  in  a  most  prosperous  condition. 

Only  coarse  cloths  are  made  in  these  mills — strong,  thick 
fabrics,  suitable  for  negro  shirting — and  the  demand  for  this 
kind  of  goods,  I  am  told,  is  greater  than  the  supply.  Every 
yard  made  in  this  manufactory  at  Augusta,  is  taken  off  as 
soon  as  it  leaves  the  loom.  I  fell  in  with  a  northern  man 
m  the  course  of  the  day,  who  told  me  that  these  mills  had 
driven  the  northern  manufacturer  of  coarse  cottons  out  of 
the  southern  market. 

"  The  buildings  are  erected  here  more  cheaply,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  there  is  far  less  expense  in  fuel,  and  the  wages  of 
the  workpeople  are  less.  At  first  the  boys  and  girls  of  the 
cracker  families  were  engaged  for  little  more  than  their 
board  ;  their  wages  are  now  better,  but  they  are  still  low. 
1  am  about  to  go  to  the  north,  and  I  shall  do  my  best  to 
persuade  some  of  my  friends,  who  have  been  almost  ruined 
by  this  southern  competition,  to  come  to  Augusta  and  set 
up  cotton  mills." 

There  is  water-power  at  Augusta  sufficient  to  turn  the 
machinery  of  many  large  establishments.  A  canal  from  the 
Savannah  river  brings  in  a  large  volume  of  water,  which 
passes  from  level  to  level,  and  might  be  made  to  turn  the 


SOMERVILLE.  349 

spindles  and  drive  the  looms  of  a  populous  manufacturing 
town.  Such  it  will  become,  if  any  faith  is  to  be  placed  in 
present  indications,  and  a  considerable  manufacturing  popu- 
lation will  be  settled  at  this  place,  drawn  from  the  half- 
wild  inhabitants  of  the  most  barren  parts  of  the  southern 
states.  I  look  upon  the  introduction  of  manufactures  at  the 
south  as  an  event  of  the  most  favorable  promise  for  that  part 
of  the  country,  since  it  both  condenses  a  class  of  population 
too  thinly  scattered  to  have  the  benefit  of  the  institutions  of 
eivilized  life,  of  education  and  religion — and  restores  one 
branch  of  labor,  at  least,  to  its  proper  dignity,  in  a  region 
where  manual  labor  has  been  the  badge  of  servitude  and 
dependence. 

One  of  the  pleasantest  spots  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Augusta  is  Somerville,  a  sandy  eminence,  "covered  with 
woods,  the  shade  of  which  is  carefully  cherished,  and  in  the 
midst  of  which  are  numerous  cottages  and  country  seats, 
closely  embowered  in  trees,  with  pleasant  paths  leading 
them  from  the  highway.  Here  the  evenings  in  summer  are 
not  so  oppressively  hot  as  in  the  town  below,  and  dense  as 
the  shade  is,  the  air  is  dry  and  elastic.  Hither  many 
families  retire  during  the  hot  season,  and  many  reside  here 
the  year  round.  We  drove  through  it  as  the  sun  was 
setting,  and  called  at  the  dwellings  of  several  of  the  hos- 
pitable inhabitants.  The  next  morning  the  railway  train 
brought  us  to  Barnwell  District,  in  South  Carolina,  where  I 
write  this. 

30  ^ 


350  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

I  intended  to  send  you  some  notes  of  the  agricultural 
changes  which  I  have  observed  in  this  part  of  South  Caro- 
lina since  I  was  last  here,  but  I  have  hardly  time  to  do  it. 
The  culture  of  wheat  has  been  introduced,  many  planters 
now  raising  enough  for  their  own  consumption.  The  sugar 
cane  is  also  planted,  and  quantities  of  sugar  and  molasses 
are  often  made  sufficient  to  supply  the  plantations  on  which 
it  is  cultivated.  Spinning-wheels  and  looms  have  come 
into  use,  and  a  strong  and  durable  cotton  cloth  is  woven  by 
the  negro  women  for  the  wear  of  the  slaves.  All  this 
shows  a  desire  to  make  the  most  of  the  recources  of  the 
country,  and  to  protect  the  planter  against  the  embar- 
rassments which  often  arise  from  the  fluctuating  prices  of 
the  great  staple  of  the  south — cotton.  But  I  have  no  time 
to  dwell  upon  this  subject.  To-morrow  I  sail  for  Cuba. 


THE     FLORIDA     REEFS.  351 


LETTER   XLV. 

THE    FLORIDA    COAST. — KEY    WEST. 

HAVANA,  April  7,  1849. 

It  was  a  most  agreeable  voyage  which  I  made  in  the 
steamer  Isabel,  to  this  port,  the  wind  in  our  favor  the  whole 
distance,  fine  bright  weather,  the  temperature  passing 
gradually  from  what  we  have  it  in  New  York  at  the  end 
of  May,  to  what  it  is  in  the  middle  of  June.  The  Isabel  is 
a  noble  sea-boat,  of  great  strength,  not  so  well  ventilated  as 
the  Tennessee,  in  which  we  came  to  Savannah,  with  spa- 
cious and  comfortable  cabins,  and,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  rather 
dirty  state-rooms. 

We  stopped  off  Savannah  near  the  close  of  the  first  day 
of  our  voyage,  to  leave  some  of  our  passengers  and  take  in 
others  ;  and  on  the  second,  which  was  also  the  second  of 
the  month,  we  were  running  rapidly  down  the  Florida 
coast,  with  the  trade-wind  fresh  on  our  beam,  sweeping  be- 
fore it  a  long  swell  from  the  east,  in  which  our  vessel  rocked 
too  much  for  the  stomachs  of  most  of  the  passengers.  The 
next  day  the  sea  was  smoother ;  we  had  changed  our  direc- 
tion somewhat  and  were  going  before  the  wind,  the  Florida 


352  LETTERS     OF    A     TRAVELLER. 

reefs  full  in  sight,  with  their  long  streak  of  white  surf,  be- 
yond which,  along  the  line  of  the  shore,  lay  a  belt  of  water, 
of  bright  translucent  green,  and  in  front  the  waves  wore  an 
amethystine  tint.  We  sat  the  greater  part  of  the  day  under 
an  awning.  A  long  line,  with  a  baited  hook  at  the  end, 
was  let  down  into  the  water  from  the  stern  of  our  vessel, 
and  after  being  dragged  there  an  hour  or  two,  it  was  seized 
by  a  king-fish,  which  was  immediately  hauled  on  board. 
Tt  was  an  elegantly  shaped  fish,  weighing  nearly  twenty 
pounds,  with  a  long  head,  and  scales  shining  with  blue  and 
purple.  It  was  served  up  for  dinner,  and  its  flavor  much 
commended  by  the  amateurs. 

The  waters  around  us  were  full  of  sails,  gleaming  in  the 
sunshine.  "They  belong,"  said  our  Charleston  pilot,  "to 
the  wreckers  who  live  at  Key  West.  Every  morning  they 
come  out  and  cruise  among  the  reefs,  to  discover  if  there  are 
any  vessels  wrecked  or  in  distress — the  night  brings  them 
back  to  the  harbor  on  their  island." 

Your  readers  know,  I  presume,  that  at  Key  West  is  a 
town  containing  nearly  three  thousand  inhabitants,  who 
subsist  solely  by  the  occupation  of  relieving  vessels  in  dis- 
tress navigating  this  dangerous  coast,  and  bringing  in  such 
as  are  wrecked.  The  population,  of  course,  increases  with 
the  commerce  of  the  country,  and  every  vessel  that  sails 
from  our  ports  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  or  comes  from  the 
Gulf  to  the  North,  every  addition  to  the  intercourse  of  the 
Atlantic  ports  with  Mobile,  New  Orleans,  the  West  Indies, 


DANGEROUS     NAVIGATION.  353 

or  Central  America,  adds  to  their  chances  of  gain.  These 
people  neither  plant  nor  sow;  their  isle  is  a  low  barren 
spot,  surrounded  by  a  beach  of  white  sand,  formed  of  dis- 
integrated porous  limestone,  and  a  covering  of  the  same 
sand,  spread  thinly  over  the  rock,  forms  its  soil. 

"  It  is  a  scandal,"  said  the  pilot,  "that  this  coast  is  not 
better  lighted.  A  few  light-houses  would  make  its  naviga- 
tion much  safer,  and  they  would  be  built,  if  Florida  had  any 
man  in  Congress  to  represent  the  matter  properly  to  the 
government.  I  have  long  been  familiar  with  this  coast — 
sixty  times,  at  least,  I  have  made  the  voyage  from  Charles- 
ton to  Havana,  and  I  am  sure  that  there  is  no  such  danger- 
ous navigation  on  the  coast  of  the  United  States.  In  going 
to  Havana,  or  to  New  Orleans,  or  to  other  ports  on  the  gulf, 
commanders  of  vessels  try  to  avoid  the  current  of  the  gulf- 
strearn  which  would  carry  them  to  the  north,  and  they, 
therefore,  shave  the  Florida  coast,  and  keep  near  the  reefs 
which  you  see  yonder.  They  often  strike  the  reefs  inad- 
vertently, or  are  driven  against  them  by  storms.  In  return- 
ing northward  the  navigation  is  safer ;  we  give  a  good 
offing  to  the  reefs  and  strike  out  into  the  gurf-stream, 
the  current  of  which  carries  us  in  the  direction  of  our 
voyage." 

A  little  before  nine  o'clock  we  had  entered  the  little  harbor 

of  Key  West,  and  were  moored  in  its  still  waters.     It  was  a 

bright  moonlight  evening,  and  we  rambled  two  or  three 

hours  about  the  town  and  the  island.     The  hull  of  a  dis- 

30* 


354  LTSTTK'KS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

masted  vessel  lay  close  by  our  landing-place  ;  it  had  no 
name  on  bow  or  stern,  and  had  just  been  found  abandoned 
at  sea,  and  brought  in  by  the  wreckers  ;  its  cargo,  consist- 
ing of  logwood,  had  been  taken  out  and  lay  in  piles  on  the 
wharf.  This  town  has  principally  grown  up  since  the 
Florida  war.  The  habitations  have  a  comfortable  appear- 
ance ;  some  of  them  are  quite  neat,  but  the  sterility  of  the 
place  is  attested  by  the  want  of  gardens.  In  some  of  the 
inclosures  before  the  houses,  however,  there  were  tropical 
shrubs  in  flower,  and  here  the  cocoanut-tree  was  growing, 
and  other  trees  of  the  palm  kind,  which  rustled  with  a  sharp 
dry  sound  in  the  fresh  wind  from  the  sea.  They  were  the 
first  palms  I  had  seen  growing  in  the  open  air,  and  they 
gave  a  tropical  aspect  to  the  place. 

We  fell  in  with  a  man  who  had  lived  thirteen  years  at 
Key  West.  He  told  us  that  its  three  thousand  inhabitants 
had  four  places  of  worship — an  Episcopal,  a  Catholic,  a 
Methodist,  and  a  Baptist  church  ;  arid  the  drinking-houses 
which  we  saw  open,  with  such  an  elaborate  display  of 
bottles  and  decanters,  were  not  resorted  to  by  the  people  of 
the  place,  but  were  the  haunt  of  English  and  American 
sailors,  whom  the  disasters,  or  the  regular  voyages  of  their 
vessels  had  brought  hither.  He  gave  us  an  account  of  the 
hurricane  of  September,  1846,  which  overflowed  and  laid 
waste  the  island. 

"  Here  where  we  stand,"  said  he,  "the  water  was  four 
feet  deep  at  least.  I  saved  my  family  in  a  boat,  and 


A     HURTIICANE     AND     FLOOD.  356 

carried  them  to  a  higher  part  of  the  island.  Two  houses 
which  I  owned  were  swept  away  by  the  flood,  and  I  was 
ruined.  Most  of  the  houses  were  unroofed  by  the  wind  ; 
every  vessel  belonging  to  the  place  was  lost ;  dismasted 
hulks  were  floating  about,  and  nobody  knew  to  whom  they 
belonged,  and  dead  bodies  of  men  and  women  lay  scattered 
along  the  beach.  It  was  the  worst  hurricane  ever  known 
at  Key  West ;  before  it  came,  we  used  to  have  a  hurri- 
cane regularly  once  in  two  years,  but  we  have  had  none 
since." 

A  bell  was  rung  about  this  time,  and  we  asked  the 
reason.  "  It  is  to  signify  that  the  negroes  must  be  at  their 
homes,"  answered  the  man.  We  inquired  if  there  were 
many  blacks  in  the  place.  "  Till  lately,"  he  replied,  "  there 
were  about  eighty,  but  since  the  United  States  government 
has  begun  to  build  the  fort  yonder,  their  number  has 
increased.  Several  broken-down  planters,  who  have  no 
employment  for  their  slaves,  have  sent  them  to  Key  West 
to  be  employed  by  the  government.  We  do  not  want  them 
here,  and  wish  that  the  government  would  leave  them  on 
the  hands  of  their  masters." 

On  the  fourth  morning  when  we  went  on  deck,  the  coast 
of  Cuba,  a  ridge  of  dim  hills,  was  in  sight,  and  our  vessel 
was  rolling  in  the  unsteady  waves  of  the  gulf  stream,  which 
here  beat  against  the  northern  shore  of  the  island.  It  was 
a  hot  morning,  as  the  mornings  in  this  climate  always  are 
till  the  periodical  breeze  springs  up,  about  ten  o'clock,  and 


356  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

refreshes  all  the  islands  that  lie  in  the  embrace  of  the  gulf. 
In  a  short  time,  the  cream-colored  walls  of  the  Moro,  the 
strong  castle  which  guards  the  entrance  to  the  harbor  of 
Havana,  appeared  rising  from  the  waters.  We  passed  close 
to  the  cliffs  on  which  it  is  built,  were  hailed  in  English, 
a  gun  was  fired,  our  steamer  darted  through  a  narrow 
entrance  into  the  harbor,  and  anchored  in  the  midst  of  what 
appeared  a  still  inland  lake. 

The  city  of  Havana  has  a  cheerful  appearance  seen  from 
the  harbor.  Its  massive  houses,  built  for  the  most  part  of 
the  porous  rock  of  the  island,  are  covered  with  stucco, 
generally  of  a  white  or  cream  color,  but  often  stained  sky- 
blue  or  bright  yellow.  Above  these  rise  the  dark  towers 
and  domes  of  the  churches,  apparently  built  of  a  more 
durable  material,  and  looking  more  venerable  for  the  gay 
color  of  the  dwellings  amidst  which  they  stand.  The 
extensive  fortifications  of  Cabanas  crown  the  heights  on  that 
side  of  the  harbor  which  lies  opposite  to  the  town  ;  and 
south  of  the  city  a  green,  fertile  valley,  in  which  stand 
scattered  palm-trees,  stretches  towards  the  pleasant  village 
of  Cerro. 

We  lay  idly  in  the  stream  for  two  hours,  till  the  authori- 
ties of  the  port  could  find  time  to  visit  us.  They  arrived 
at  last,  and  without  coming  on  board,  subjected  the  captain 
to  a  long  questioning,  and  searched  the  newspapers  he 
brought  for  intelligence  relating  to  the  health  of  the  port 
from  which  he  sailed.  At  last  they  gave  us  leave  to  land, 


LANDING     AT     HAVANA.  3o7 

without  undergoing  a  quarantine,  and  withdrew,  taking 
with  them  our  passports.  We  went  on  shore,  and  after 
three  hours  further  delay  got  our  baggage  through  the 
custom-house. 


358  LETTERS    OF    A     TRAVELLER. 


LETTER    XLVI. 


HAVANA,  April  10,  1849. 

I  FIND  that  it  requires  a  greater  effort  of  resolution  to  sit 
down  to  the  writing  of  a  long  letter  in  this  soft  climate,  than 
in  the  country  I  have  left.  I  feel  a  temptation  to  sit  idly, 
and  let  the  grateful  wind  from  the  sea,  coming  in  at  the 
broad  windows,  flow  around  me,  or  read,  or  talk,  as  I 
happen  to  have  a  book  or  a  companion.  That  there  is 
something  in  a  tropical  climate  which  indisposes  one  to 
vigorous  exertion  I  can  well  believe,  from  what  I  experience 
in  myself,  and  what  I  see  around  me.  The  ladies  do  not 
seem  to  take  the  least  exercise,  except  an  occasional  drive 
on  the  Paseo,  or  public  park ;  they  never  walk  out,  and 
when  they  are  shopping,  which  is  no  less  the  vocation  of 
their  sex  here  than  in  other  civilized  countries,  they  never 
descend  from  their  volantes,  but  the  goods  are  brought  out  by 
the  obsequious  shopkeeper,  and  the  lady  makes  her  choice 
and  discusses  the  price  as  she  sits  in  her  carriage. 

Yet  the  M'omen  of  Cuba  show  no  tokens  of  delicate 
health.  Freshness  of  color  does  not  belong  to  a  latitude  so 
near  the  equator,  but  they  have  plump  figures,  placid,  un- 


AIRY     ROOMS.  359 

wrinkled  countenances,  a  well-developed  bust,  and  eyes, 
the  brilliant  languor  of  which  is  riot  the  languor  of  illness. 
The  girls  as  well  as  the  young  men,  have  rather  narrow 
shoulders,  but  as  they  advance  in  life,  the  chest,  in  the 
women  particularly,  seems  to  expand  from  year  to  year,  till 
it  attains  an  amplitude  by  no  means  common  in  our  country. 
I  fully  believe  that  this  effect,  and  their  general  health,  in 
spite  of  the  inaction  in  which  they  pass  their  lives,  is  owing 
to  the  free  circulation  of  air  through  their  apartments. 

For  in  Cuba,  the  women  as  well  as  the  men  may  be  said 
to  live  in  the  open  air.  They  know  nothing  of  close  rooms, 
in  all  the  island,  and  nothing  of  foul  air,  and  to  this,  I  have 
110  doubt,  quite  as  much  as  to  the  mildness  of  the  temper- 
ature, the  friendly  effect  of  its  climate  upon  invalids  from 
the  north  is  to  be  ascribed.  Their  ceilings  are  extremely 
lofty,  and  the  wide  windows,  extending  from  the  top  of  the 
room  to  the  floor  and  guarded  by  long  perpendicular  bars 
of  iron,  are  without  glass,  and  when  closed  are  generally 
only  closed  with  blinds  which,  while  they  break  the  force 
of  the  wind  when  it  is  too  strong,  do  not  exclude  the  air. 
Since  I  have  been  on  the  island,  I  may  be  said  to  have 
breakfasted  and  dined  and  supped  and  slept  in  the  open  air, 
in  an  atmosphere  which  is  never  in  repose  except  for  a 
short  time  in  the  morning  after  sunrise.  At  other  times  a 
breeze  is  always  stirring,  in  the  day-time  bringing  in  the 
air  from  the  ocean,  and  at  night  drawing  it  out  again  to  the 


360  LETTERS    OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

Iii  walking  through  the  streets  of  the  towns  in  Cuba,  I 
have  been  entertained  by  the  glimpses  I  had  through  the 
ample  windows,  of  what  was  going  on  in  the  parlors. 
Sometimes  a  curtain  hanging  before  them  allowed  me  only 
a  sight  of  the  small  hands  which  clasped  the  bars  of  the 
grate,  and  the  dusky  faces  and  dark  eyes  peeping  into  the 
street  and  scanning  the  passers  by.  At  other  times,  the 
whole  room  was  seen,  with  its  furniture,  and  its  female 
forms  sitting  in  languid  postures,  courting  the  breeze  as  it 
entered  from  without.  In  the  evening,  as  I  passed  along  the 
narrow  sidewalk  of  the  narrow  streets,  I  have  been  startled 
at  finding  myself  almost  in  the  midst  of  a  merry  party 
gathered  about  the  window  of  a  brilliantly  lighted  room, 
and  chattering  the  soft  Spanish  of  the  island  in  voices  that 
sounded  strangely  near  to  me.  I  have  spoken  of  their 
languid  postures  :  they  love  to  recline  on  sofas ;  their  houses 
are  filled  with  rocking-chairs  imported  from  the  United 
States  ;  they  are  fond  of  sitting  in  chairs  tilted  against  the 
wall,  as  we  sometimes  do  at  home.  Indeed  they  go  beyond 
us  in  this  resp«ct ;  for  in  Cuba  they  have  invented  a  kind 
of  chair  which,  by  lowering  the  back  and  raising  the  knees, 
places  the  sitter  precisely  in  the  posture  he  would  take  if  he 
sat  in  a  chair  leaning  backward  against  a  wall.  It  is  a 
luxurious  attitude,  I  must  own,  and  I  do  not  wonder  that  it 
is  a  favorite  with  lazy  people,  for  it  relieves  one  of  all  the 
trouble  of  keeping  the  body  upright. 

It  is  the  women  who  form  the  large  majority  of  the  wor- 


DEVOTION     OF     THE     WOMEN.  361 

shipers  in  the  churches.  I  landed  here  in  Passion  Week, 
and  the  next  day  was  Holy  Thursday,  when  not  a  vehicle  on 
wheels  of  any  sort  is  allowed  to  be  seen  in  the  streets  ;  ant 
the  ladies,  contrary  to  their  custom  during  the  rest  of  the 
year,  are  obliged  to  resort  to  the  churches  on  foot.  Negr 
servants  of  both  sexes  were  seen  passing  to  and  fro,  carrying 
mats  on  which  their  mistresses  were  to  kneel  in  the  morning 
service.  All  the  white  female  population,  young  and  old, 
were  dressed  in  black,  with  black  lace  veils.  In  the  after- 
noon, three  wooden  or  waxen  images  of  the  size  of  life,  rep- 
resenting Christ  iu  the  different  stages  of  his  passion,  were 
placed  in  the  spacious  Church  of  St.  Catharine,  which  was 
so  thronged  that  I  found  it  difficult  to  enter.  Near  the  door 
was  a  figure  of  the  Saviour  sinking  under  the  weight  of  his 
cross,  and  the  worshipers  were  kneeling  to  kiss  his  feet. 
Aged  negro  men  and  women,  half-naked  negro  children, 
ladies  richly  attired,  little  girls  in  Parisian  dresses,  with 
lustrous  black  eyes  and  a  profusion  of  ringlets,  cast  them- 
selves down  before  the  image,  and  pressed  their  lips  to  its 
feet  in  a  passion  of  devotion.  Mothers  led  up  their  little 
ones,  and  showed  them  how  to  perform  this  act  of  adoration. 
I  saw  matrons  and  young  women  rise  from  it  with  their  eye 
red  with  tears. 

The  next  day,  which  was  Good  Friday,  about  twilight,  a 

long  procession   came   trailing   slowly   through   the  streets 

under  my  window,  bearing  an  image  of  the  dead  Christ, 

lying  upon  a  cloth  of  gold.     It  was  accompanied  by  a  body 

31 


362  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

of  soldiery,  holding  their  muskets  reversed,  and  a  band  play- 
ing plaintive  tunes  ;  the  crowd  uncovered  their  heads  as  it 
passed.  On  Saturday  morning,  at  ten  o'clock,  the  solemnities 
of  holy  week  were  over  ;  the  hells  rang  a  merry  peal  ;  hun- 
dreds of  volantes  and  drays,  which  had  stood  ready  har- 
nessed, rushed  into  the  streets ;  the  city  became  suddenly 
noisy  with  the  rattle  of  wheels  and  the  tramp  of  horses  : 
the  shops  which  had  been  shut  for  the  last  two  days,  were 
opened ;  and  the  ladies,  in  white  or  light-colored  muslins, 
were  proceeding  in  their  volantes  to  purchase  at  the  shops 
their  costumes  for  the  Easter  festivities. 

I  passed  the  evening  on  the  Plaza  de  Annas,  a  public 
square  in  front  of  the  Governor's  house,  planted  with  palms 
and  other  trees,  paved  with  broad  flags,  and  bordered  with 
a  row  of  benches.  It  was  crowded  with  people  in  their  best 
dresses,  the  ladies  mostly  in  white,  and  without  bonnets,  for 
the  bonnet  in  this  country  is  only  worn  while  travelling. 
Chairs  had  been  placed  for  them  in  a  double  row  around  the 
edge  of  the  square,  and  a  row  of  volantes  surrounded  the 
square,  in  each  of  which  sat  two  or  more  ladies,  the  ample 
folds  of  their  muslin  dresses  flowing  out  on  each  side  over  the 
steps  of  the  carriage.  The  Governor's  band  played  various 
airs,  martial  and  civic,  with  great  beauty  of  execution.  The 
music  continued  for  two  hours,  and  the  throng,  with  only 
occasional  intervals  of  conversation,  seemed  to  give  them- 
selves up  wholly  to  the  enjoyment  of  listening  to  it. 

It  was  a  bright  moonlight  night,  so  bright  that  one  might 


CASCAK.ILLA.  363 

almost  see  to  read,  and  the  temperature  the  finest  I  can  con- 
ceive, a  gentle  hreeze  rustling  among  the  palms  overhead. 
I  was  surprised  at  seeing  around  me  so  many  fair  brows  and 
snowy  necks.  It  is  the  moonlight,  said  I  to  myself,  or  per- 
haps it  is  the  effect  of  the  white  dresses,  for  the  complexions 
of  these  ladies  seem  to  differ  several  shades  from  those  which 
I  saw  yesterday  at  the  churches.  A  female  acquaintance 
has  since  given  me  another  solution  of  the  matter. 

"  The  reason,"  she  said,  "  of  the  difference  you  perceived 
is  this,  that  during  the  ceremonies  of  holy  week  they  take 
off  the  cascarilla  from  their  faces,  and  appear  in  their  natural 
complexions." 

I  asked  the  meaning  of  the  word  cascarilla,  which  I  did 
not  remember  to  have  heard  before. 

"  It  is  the  favorite  cosmetic  of  the  island,  and  is  made  of 
egg-shells  finely  pulverized.  They  often  fairly  plaster  their 
faces  with  it.  I  have  seen  a  dark-skinned  lady  as  white 
almost  as  marble  at  a  ball.  They  will  sometimes,  at  a 
morning  call  or  an  evening  party,  withdraw  to  repair  the 
cascarilla  on  their  faces." 

I  do  not  vouch  for  this  tale,  but  tell  it  "  as  it  was  told  to 
me."  Perhaps,  after  all,  it  was  the  moonlight  which  had 
produced  this  transformation,  though  I  had  noticed  some- 
thing of  the  same  improvement  of  complexion  just  before 
sunset,  on  the  Paseo  Isabel,  a  public  park  without  the  city 
walls,  planted  with  rows  of  trees,  where,  every  afternoon, 
the  gentry  of  Havana  drive  backward  and  forward  in  their 


364  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

volantes,  with  each  a  glittering  harness,  and  a  liveried  negro 
bestriding,  in  large  jack-boots,  the  single  horse  which  draws 
the  vehicle. 

I  had  also  the  same  afternoon  visited  the  receptacle  into 
which  the  population  of  the  city  are  swept  when  the  game 
of  life  is  played  out — the  Campo  Santo,  as  it  is  called,  or 
public  cemetery  of  Havana.  Going  out  of  the  city  at  the 
gate  nearest  the  sea,  I  passed  through  a  street  of  the 
wretchedest  houses  I  had  seen ;  the  ocean  was  roaring  at 
my  right  on  the  coral  rocks  which  form  the  coast.  The 
dingy  habitations  were  soon  left  behind,  and  I  saw  the 
waves,  pushed  forward  by  a  fresh  wind,  flinging  their  spray 
almost  into  the  road  ;  I  next  entered  a  short  avenue  of 
trees,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  volante  stopped  at  the  gate 
of  the  cemetery.  In  a  little  inclosure  before  the  entrance, 
a  few  starvling  flowers  of  Europe  were  cultivated,  but  the 
wild  plants  of  the  country  flourished  luxuriantly  on  the  rich 
soil  within.  A  thick  wall  surrounded  the  cemetery,  in 
which  were  rows  of  openings  for  coffins,  one  above  the 
other,  where  the  more  opulent  of  the  dead  were  entombed. 
The  coffin  is  thrust  in  endwise,  and  the  opening  closed  with 
a  marble  slab  bearing  an  inscription. 

Most  of  these  niches  were  already  occupied,  but  in  the 
earth  below,  by  far  the  greater  part  of  those  who  die  at  Ha- 
vana, are  buried  without  a  monument  or  a  grave  which 
they  are  allowed  to  hold  a  longer  time  than  is  necessary  for 
their  bodies  to  be  consumed  in  the  quicklime  which  is 


IJ  17  II  1  A  L     PLACES.  365 

thrown  upon  them.  Every  day  fresh  trenches  are  dug  in 
which  their  bodies  are  thrown,  generally  without  coffins. 
Two  of  these,  one  near  each  wall  of  the  cemetery,  were 
\vaiting  for  the  funerals.  I  saw  where  the  spade  had 
divided  the  bones  of  those  who  were  buried  there  last,  and 
thrown  up  the  broken  fragments,  mingled  with  masses  of 
lime,  locks  of  hair,  and  bits  of  clothing.  Without  the  walls 
was  a  receptacle  in  which  the  skulls  and  other  larger  bones, 
dark  with  the  mould  of  the  grave,  were  heaped. 

Two  or  three  persons  were  walking  about  the  cemetery 
Avhen  we  first  entered,  but  it  was  now  at  length  the  cool  of 
the  day,  and  the  funerals  began  to  arrive.  They  brought 
in  first  a  rude  black  coffin,  broadest  at  the  extremity  which 
contained  the  head,  and  placing  it  at  the  end  of  one  of  the 
trenches,  hurriedly  produced  a  hammer  and  nails  to  fasten 
the  lid  before  letting  it  down,  when  it  was  found  that  the 
box  was  too  shallow  at  the  narrower  extremity.  The  lid 
was  removed  for  a  moment  and  showed  the  figure  of  an  old 
man  in  a  threadbare  black  coat,  white  pantaloons,  and  boots. 
The  negroes  who  bore  it  beat  out  the  bottom  with  the  ham- 
mer, so  as  to  allow  the  lid  to  be  fastened  over  the  feet.  It 
was  then  nailed  down  firmly  with  coarse  nails,  the  coffin 
was  swung  into  the  trench,  and  the  earth  shoveled  upon  it. 
A  middle-aged  man,  who  seemed  to  be  some  relative  of  the 
dead,  led  up  a  little  boy  close  to  the  grave  and  watched 
the  process  of  filling  it.  They  spoke  to  each  other  and 
smiled,  stood  till  the  pit  was  filled  to  the  surface,  and  the 
31* 


366  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

bearers  had  departed,  and  then  retired  in  their  turn.  This 
was  one  of  the  more  respectable  class  of  funerals.  Com- 
monly the  dead  are  piled  without  coffins,  one  above  the 
other,  in  the  trenches. 

The  funerals  now  multiplied.  The  corpse  of  a  little  child 
was  brought  in,  uncoffined ;  and  another,  a  young  man 
who,  I  was  told,  had  cut  his  throat  for  love,  was  borne  to- 
wards one  of  the  niches  in  the  wall.  I  heard  loud  voices, 
which  seemed  to  proceed  from  the  eastern  side  of  the  ceme- 
tery, and  which,  I  thought  at  first,  might  be  the  recitation 
of  a  funeral  service  ;  but  no  funeral  service  is  said  at  these 
graves  ;  and,  after  a  time,  I  perceived  that  they  came  from 
the  windows  of  a  long  building  which  overlooked  one  side 
of  the  burial  ground.  It  was  a  mad-house.  The  inmates, 
exasperated  at  the  spectacle  before  them,  were  gesticulating 
from  the  windows — the  women  screaming  and  the  men 
shouting,  but  no  attention  was  paid  to  their  uproar.  A 
lady,  however,  a  stranger  to  the  island,  who  visited  the 
Campo  Santo  that  afternoon,  was  so  affected  by  the  sights 
and  sounds  of  the  place,  that  she  was  borne  out  weeping 
and  almost  in  convulsions.  As  we  left  the  place,  we  found 
a  crowd  of  volantes  about  the  gate  ;  a  pompous  bier,  with 
rich  black  hangings,  drew  up  ;  a  little  beyond,  we  met  one 
of  another  kind — a  long  box,  with  glass  sides  and  ends,  in 
which  lay  the  corpse  of  a  woman,  dressed  in  white,  with  a 
black  veil  thrown  over  the  face. 

The  next  day  the  festivities,  which  were  to  indemnify  the 


367 

people  for  the  austerities  of  Lent  and  of  Passion  Week,  began. 
The  cock-pits  were  opened  during  the  day,  and  masked 
balls  were  given  in  the  evening  at  the  theatres.  You  know, 
probably,  that  cock-fighting  is  the  principal  diversion  of  the 
island,  having  entirely  supplanted  the  national  spectacle  of 
bull-baiting.  Cuba,  in  fact,  seemed  to  me  a  great  poultry- 
yard.  I  heard  the  crowing  of  cocks  in  all  quarters,  for 
the  game-cock  is  the  noisiest  and  most  boastful  of  birds,  and 
is  perpetually  uttering  his  notes  of  defiance.  In  the  villages 
I  saw  the  veterans  of  the  pit,  a  strong-legged  race,  with 
their  combs  cropped  smooth  to  the  head,  the  feathers  plucked 
i'rom  every  part  of  the  body  except  their  wings,  and  the  tail 
docked  like  that  of  a  coach  horse,  picking  up  their  food  in 
the  lanes  among  the  chickens.  One  old  cripple  I  remem- 
ber to  have  seen  in  the  little  town  of  Guines,  stiff  with 
wounds  received  in  combat,  who  had  probably  got  a  fur- 
lough for  life,  and  who,  while  limping  among  his  female  com- 
panions, maintained  a  sort  of  strut  in  his  gait,  and  now  and 
then  stopped  to  crow  defiance  to  the  world.  The  peasants 
breed  game-cocks  and  bring  them  to  market ;  amateurs  in 
the  town  train  them  for  their  private  amusement.  Dealers  in 
garne-cocks  are  as  common  as  horse-jockies  with  us,  and 
every  village  has  its  cock-pit. 

I  went  on  Monday  to  the  Valla  de  Gallos,  situated  in 
that  part  of  Havana  which  lies  without  the  walls.  Here, 
in  a  spacious  inclosure,  were  two  amphitheatres  of  benches, 
roofed,  but  without  walls,  with  a  circular  area  in  the  midst. 


3G»  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

Each  was  crowded  with  people,  who  were  looking  at  a  cock- 
fight, and  half  of  whom  seemed  vociferating  with  all  their 
might.  I  mounted  one  of  the  outer  benches,  and  saw  one 
of  the  birds  laid  dead  by  the  other  in  a  few  minutes.  Then 
was  heard  the  chink  of  gold  and  silver  pieces,  as  the  betters 
stepped  into  the  area  and  paid  their  wagers  ;  the  slain  bird 
was  carried  out  and  thrown  on  the  ground,  and  the  victor, 
taken  into  the  hands  of  the  owner,  crowed  loudly  in  cele- 
bration of  his  victory.  Two  other  birds  were  brougbt  in, 
and  the  cries  of  those  who  offered  wagers  were  heard  on  all 
sides.  They  ceased  at  last,  and  the  cocks  were  put  down 
'o  begin  the  combat.  T-hey  fought  warily  at  first,  but  at 
length  began  to  strike  in  earnest,  the  blood  flowed,  and  the 
bystanders  were  heard  to  vociferate,  "  ahi  estdn  pele- 
zando"* — "  mata !  mata!  mata!"^  gesticulating  at  the 
same  time  with  great  violence,  and  new  wagers  were  laid 
as  the  interest  of  the  combat  increased.  In  ten  minutes  one 
of  the  birds  was  dispatched,  for  the  combat  never  ends  till 
one  of  them  has  his  death-wound. 

In  the  mean  tune  several  other  combats  had  begun  in 
smaller  pits,  which  lay  within  the  same  inclosure,  but  were 
not  surrounded  with  circles  of  benches.  I  looked  upon  the 
throng  engaged  in  this  brutal  sport,  with  eager  gestures  and 
loud  cries,  and  could  not  help  thinking  how  soon  tbis  noisy 
crowd  would  lie  in  heaps  in  the  pits  of  the  Campo  Santo. 

*  "  Now  they  are  fighting !"  f  «  Kill !  kill !  kill !" 


A     MASKED     BALL.  369 

In  the  evening  was  a  masked  ball  in  the  Tacon  Theatre, 
a  spacious  building,  one  of  the  largest  of  its  kind  in  the 
world.  The  pit,  floored  over,  with  the  whole  depth  of  the 
stage  open  to  the  back  wall  of  the  edifice,  furnished  a  ball- 
room of  immense  size.  People  in  grotesque  masks,  in  hoods 
or  fancy  dresses,  were  mingled  with  a  throng  clad  in  the 
ordinary  costume,  and  Spanish  dances  were  performed  to 
the  music  of  a  numerous  band.  A  well-dressed  crowd 
filled  the  first  and  second  tier  of  boxes.  The  Creole  smokes 
everywhere,  and  seemed  astonished  when  the  soldier  who 
stood  at  the  door  ordered  him  to  throw  away  his  lighted 
segar  before  entering.  Once  upon  the  floor,  however,  he 
lighted  another  segar  in  defiance  of  the  prohibition. 

The  Spanish  dances,  with  their  graceful  movements, 
resembling  the  undulations  of  the  sea  in  its  gentlest  moods, 
are  nowhere  more  gracefully  performed  than  in  Cuba,  by 
the  young  women  born  on  the  island.  I  could  not  help 
thinking,  however,  as  I  looked  on  that  gay  crowd,  on  the 
quaint  maskers,  and  the  dancers  whose  flexible  limbs 
seemed  swayed  to  and  fro  by  the  breath  of  the  music,  that 
all  this  was  soon  to  end  at  the  Campo  Santo,  and  I  asked 
myself  how  many  of  all  this  crowd  would  be  huddled  un- 
coffined,  when  their  sports  were  over,  into  the  foul  trenches 
of  the  public  cemetery. 


370  LETTERS    OF    A     TRAVELLER. 


LETTER    XLVII. 

SCENERY     OF     CUB  A. C  OFFEE    PLANTATIONS. 

MATANZAS,  April  16,  1849. 

MY  expectations  of  the  scenery  of  the  island  of  Cuba  and 
of  the  magnificence  of  its  vegetation,  have  not  been  quite 
fulfilled.  This  place  is  but  sixty  miles  to  the  east  of 
Havana,  but  the  railway  which  brings  you  hither,  takes 
you  over  a  sweep  of  a  hundred  and  thirty  miles,  through 
one  of  the  most  fertile  districts  in  the  interior  of  the  island. 
I  made  an  excursion  from  Havana  to  San  Antonio  de 
los  Banos,  a  pleasant  little  town  at  nine  leagues  distance,  in 
a  southeast  direction  from  the  capital,  in  what  is  called  the 
Vuelta  Abajo.  I  have  also  just  returned  from  a  visit  to  some 
fine  sugar  estates  to  the  southeast  of  Matanzas,  so  that  I 
may  claim  to  have  seen  something  of  the  face  of  the 
country  of  which  I  speak. 

At  this  season  the  hills  about  Havana,  and  the  pastures 
everywhere,  have  an  arid  look,  a  russet  hue,  like  sandy 
fields  with  us,  when  scorched  by  a  long  drought,  on 
like  our  meadows  in  whiter.  This,  however,  is  the  dry 
season  ;  and  when  I  was  told  that  but  two  showers  of  rain 
have  fallen  since  October,  I  could  only  wonder  that  so  much 


TREES     OF     CUBA.  371 

vegetation  was  left,  and  that  the  verbenas  and  other 
herbage  which  clothed  the  ground,  should  yet  retain,  as  1 
perceived  they  did,  when  I  saw  them  nearer,  an  unextin- 
guished  life.  I  have,  therefore,  the  disadvantage  of  seeing 
Cuba  not  only  in  the  dry  season,  but  near  the  close  of  an 
cucommonly  dry  season.  Next  month  the  rainy  season 
uommences,  when  the  whole  island,  I  am  told,  even  the 
barrenest  parts,  flushes  into  a  deep  verdure,  creeping  plants 
climb  over  all  the  rocks  and  ascend  the  trees,  and  the 
mighty  palms  put  out  their  new  foliage. 

Shade,  however,  is  the  great  luxury  of  a  warm  climate, 
and  why  the  people  of  Cuba  do  not  surround  their  habita- 
tions in  the  country,  in  the  villages,  and  in  the  environs  of 
the  large  towns,  with  a  dense  umbrage  of  trees,  I  confess  I 
do  not  exactly  understand.  In  their  rich  soil,  and  in  their 
perpetually  genial  climate,  trees  grow  with  great  rapidity, 
and  they  have  many  noble  ones  both  for  size  and  foliage. 
The  royal  palm,  with  its  tall  straight  columnar  trunk  of  a 
whitish  hue,  only  uplifts  a  Corinthian  capital  of  leaves,  and 
casts  but  a  narrow  shadow  ;  but  it  mingles  finely  with 
other  trees,  and  planted  in  avenues,  forms  a  colonnade  nobler 
than  any  of  the  porticoes  to  the  ancient  Egyptian  temples. 
There  is  no  thicker  foliage  or  fresher  green  than  that  of  the 
mango,  which  daily  drops  its  abundant  fruit  for  several 
months  in  th  eyear,  and  the  mamey  and  the  sapote,  fruit- 
trees  also,  are  in  leaf  during  the  whole  of  the  dry  season  ; 
even  the  Indian  fig,  which  clasps  and  kills  the  largest  trees 


372  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

of  the  forest,  and  at  last  takes  their  place,  a  stately  tree 
with  a  stout  trunk  of  its  own,  has  its  unfading  leaf  of  vivid 
green. 

It  is  impossible  to  avoid  an  expression  of  impatience  that 
these  trees  have  not  been  formed  into  groups,  embowering 
the  dwellings,  and  into  groves,  through  which  the  beams  of 
the  sun,  here  so  fierce  at  noonday,  could  not  reach  the 
ground  beneath.  There  is  in  fact  nothing  of  ornamental 
cultivation  in  Cuba,  except  of  the  most  formal  kind.  Some 
private  gardens  there  are,  carefully  kept,  but  all  of  the 
stifFest  pattern  ;  there  is  nothing  which  brings  out  the  larger 
vegetation  of  the  region  in  that  grandeur  and  magnificence 
which  might  belong  to  it.  In  the  Q,uinta  del  Obispo,  or 
Bishop's  Garden,  which  is  open  to  the  public,  you  lind  shade 
which  you  find  nowhere  else,  but  the  trees  are  planted  in 
straight  alleys,  and  the  water-roses,  a  species  of  water-lily 
of  immense  size,  fragrant  and  pink-colored,  grow  in  a  square 
tank,  fed  by  a  straight  canal,  with  sides  of  hewn  stone. 

Let  me  say,  however,  that  when  I  asked  for  trees,  I  was 
referred  to  the  hurricanes  which  have  recently  ravaged  the 
island.  One  of  these  swept  over  Cuba  in  1844,  uprooting 
the  palms  and  the  orange  groves,  and  laying  prostrate  the 
avenues  of  trees  on  the  coffee  plantations.  The  Paseo  Isabel, 
a  public  promenade,  between  the  walls  of  Havana  and  the 
streets  of  the  new  town,  was  formerly  over-canopied  with 
lofty  and  spreading  trees,  which  this  tempest  leveled  to  the 
ground  ;  it  has  now  been  planted  with  rows  of  young  trees, 


ORANGE- TREES.  373 

which  yield  a  meagre  shade.  la  1846  came  another  hur- 
ricane, still  more  terrific,  destroying  much  of  the  beauty 
which  the  first  had  spared. 

Of  late  years,  also,  such  of  the  orange-trees  as  were  not 
uprooted,  or  have  recently  been  planted,  have  been  attacked 
by  the  insect  which  a  few  years  since  was  so  destructive  to 
the  same  tree  in  Florida.  The  effect  upon  the  tree  resem- 
bles that  of  a  blight,  the  leaves  grow  sere,  and  the  branches 
die.  You  may  imagine,  thereibre,  that  I  was  somewhat 
disappointed  not  to  find  the  air,  as  it  is  at  this  season  in  the 
south  of  Italy,  fragrant  with  the  odor  of  orange  and  lemon 
blossoms.  Oranges  are  scarce,  and  not  so  fine,  at  this  mo- 
ment, in  Havana  and  Matanzas,  as  in  the  fruit-shops  of 
New  York.  I  hear,  however,  that  there  are  portions  of  the 
island  which  were  spared  by  these  hurricanes,  and  that 
there  are  others  where  the  ravages  of  the  insect  in  the 
orange  groves  have  nearly  ceased,  as  I  have  been  told  is 
also  the  case  in  Florida. 

1  have  mentioned  my  excursion  to  San  Antonio.  I  went 
thither  by  railway,  in  a  car  built  at  Newark,  drawn  by  an 
engine  made  in  New  York,  and  worked  by  an  American 
engineer.  For  some  distance  we  passed  through  fields  of  the 
sweet-potato,  which  here  never  requires  a  second  planting, 
arid  propagates  itself  perpetually  in  the  soil,  patches  of  maize, 
low  groves  of  bananas  with  their  dark  stems,  and  of  plantains 
with  their  green  ones,  and  large  tracts  prodiicing  the  pine- 
apple growing  in  rows  like  carrots.  Then  came  plantations 
32 


374  LETTERS    OF    A     TRAVELLER. 

of  the  sugar-cane,  with  its  sedge-like  blades  of  pale-green, 
then  extensive  tracts  of  pasturage  with  scattered  shrubs  and 
tall  dead  weeds,  the  growth  of  the  last  summer,  and  a  thin 
herbage  bitten  close  to  the  soil.  Here  and  there  was  an 
abandoned  coilee-plantation,  where  cattle  were  browzing 
among  the  half-perished  shrubs  and  broken  rows  of  trees ; 
and  the  neglected  hedges  of  the  wild  pine,  piiia  raton,  as 
the  Cubans  call  it,  were  interrupted  with  broad  gaps. 

Sometimes  we  passed  the  cottages  of  the  monteros,  or 
peasants,  built  often  of  palm-leaves,  the  walls  formed  of  the 
broad  sheath  of  the  leaf,  fastened  to  posts  of  bamboo,  and 
the  roof  thatched  with  the  long  plume-like  leaf  itself.  The 
door  was  sometimes  hung  with  a  kind  of  curtain  to  exclude 
the  sun,  which  the  dusky  complexioned  women  and  children 
put  aside  to  gaze  at  us  as  we  passed.  These  dwellings  were 
often  picturesque  in  their  appearance,  with  a  grove  of  plan- 
tains behind,  a  thicket  of  bamboo  by  its  side,  waving  its 
willow-like  sprays  in  the  wind  ;  a  pair  of  mango-trees  near, 
hung  with  fruit  just  ripening  and  reddish  blossoms  just 
opening,  and  a  cocoa-tree  or  two  lifting  high  above  the  rest 
its  immense  feathery  leaves  and  its  clusters  of  green  nuts. 

We  now  and  then  met  the  monteros,  themselves  scudding 
along  on  their  little  horses,  in  that  pace  which  we  call  a 
rack.  Their  dress  was  a  Panama  hat,  a  shirt  worn  over  a 
pair  of  pantaloons,  a  pair  of  rough  cowskin  shoes,  one  of 
which  was  armed  with  a  spur,  and  a  sword  lashed  to  the 
left  side  by  a  belt  of  cotton  cloth.  They  are  men  of  manly 


SAN     ANTONIO     DE     LOS     BANGS.  375 

bearing,  of  thin  make,  but  often  of  a  good  figure,  with  well- 
spread  shoulders,  which,  however,  have  a  stoop  in  them, 
contracted,  I  suppose,  by  riding  always  with  a  short  stirrup. 

Forests,  too,  we  passed.  You,  doubtless,  suppose  that  a 
forest  in  a  soil  and  climate  like  this,  must  be  a  dense  growth 
of  trees  with  colossal  stems  and  leafy  summits.  A  forest  in 
Cuba — all  that  I  have  seen  are  such — is  a  thicket  of  shrubs 
and  creeping  plants,  through  which,  one  would  suppose  that 
even  the  wild  cats  of  the  country  would  find  it  impossible  to 
make  their  way.  Above  this  impassable  jungle  rises  here 
and  there  the  palm,  or  the  gigantic  ceyba  or  cotton-tree,  but 
more  often  trees  of  far  less  beauty,  thinly  scattered  and  with 
few  branches,  disposed  without  symmetry,  and  at  this  season 
often  leafless. 

We  reached  San  Antonio  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
and  went  to  the  inn  of  La  Punta,  where  we  breakfasted  on 
rice  and  fresh  eggs,  and  a  dish  of  meat  so  highly  flavored 
with  garlic,  that  it  was  impossible  to  distinguish  to  what 
animal  it  belonged.  Adjoining  the  inn  was  a  cockpit,  with 
cells  for  the  birds  surrounding  the  inclosure,  in  which  they 
were  crowing  lustily.  Two  or  three  persons  seemed  to  have 
nothing  to  do  but  to  tend  them  ;  and  one,  in  particular,  with 
a  gray  beard,  a  grave  aspect,  and  a  solid  gait,  went  about 
the  work  with  a  deliberation  and  solemnity  which  to  me, 
who  had  lately  seen  the  hurried  burials  at  the  Campo  Santo, 
in  Havana,  was  highly  edifying.  A  man  was  training  a 
game-cock  in  the  pit ;  he  was  giving  it  lessons  in  the  virtue 


376  LETTERS    OF    A     TRAVELLER. 

of  perseverance.  He  held  another  cock  before  it,  which  he 
was  teaching  it  to  pursue,  and  striking  it  occasionally  over 
the  head  to  provoke  it,  with  the  wing  of  the  bird  in  his 
hand,  he  made  it  run  after  him  about  the  area  for  half  an 
hour  together. 

I  had  heard  much  of  the  beauty  of  the  coffee  estates  of 
Cuba,  and  in  the  neighborhood  of  San  Antonio  are  some 
which  have  been  reputed  very  fine  ones.  A  young  man,  in 
a  checked  blue  and  white  shirt,  worn  like  a  frock  over 
checked  pantaloons,  with  a  spur  on  one  heel,  offered  to  pro- 
cure us  a  volant.e,  and  we  engaged  him.  He  brought  us 
one  with  two  horses,  a  negro  postillion  sitting  on  one,  and  the 
shafts  of  the  vehicle  borne  by  the  other.  We  set  off,  passing 
through  fields  guarded  by  stiff-leaved  hedges  of  the  ratoon- 
pine,  over  ways  so  bad  that  if  the  motion  of  the  volante 
were  not  the  easiest  in  the  world,  we  should  have  taken  an 
unpleasant  jolting.  The  lands  of  Cuba  fit  for  cultivation, 
are  divided  into  red  and  black  ;  we  were  in  the  midst  of 
the  red  lands,  consisting  of  a  fine  earth  of  a  deep  brick  color, 
resting  on  a  bed  of  soft,  porous,  chalky  limestone.  In  the 
dry  season  the  surface  is  easily  dispersed  into  dust,  and  stains 
your  clothes  of  a  dull  red. 

A  drive  of  four  miles,  through  a  country  full  of  palm  and 
cocoanut  trees,  brought  us  to  the  gate  of  a  coffee  plantation, 
which  our  friend  in  the  checked  shirt,  by  whom  we  were 
accompanied,  opened  for  us.  We  passed  up  to  the  house 
through  what  had  been  an  avenue  of  palrns,  but  was  now 


A     COFFEE     ESTATE.  377 

two  rows  of  trees  at  very  unequal  distances,  with  here  and 
there  a  sickly  orange-tree.  On  each  side  grew  the  coiibe 
shrubs,  hung  with  flowers  of  snowy  white,  but  unpruned 
and  full  of  dry  and  leafless  twigs.  In  every  direction  were 
ranks  of  trees,  prized  for  ornament  or  for  their  fruit,  and 
shrubs,  among  which  were  magnificent  oleanders  loaded 
with  flowers,  planted  in  such  a  manner  as  to  break  the 
force  of  the  wind,  and  partially  to  shelter  the  plants  from 
the  too  fierce  rays  of  the  sum  The  coffee  estate  is,  in  fact, 
a  kind  of  forest,  with  the  trees  and  shrubs  arranged  in 
straight  lines.  The  mayoral,  or  steward  of  the  estate,  a 
handsome  Cuban,  with  white  teeth,  a  pleasant  smile,  and 
a  distinct  utterance  of  his  native  language,  received  us  with 
great  courtesy,  and  offered  us  cigarillos,  though  he  never 
used  tobacco  ;  and  spirit  of  cane,  though  he  never  drank. 
He  wore  a  sword,  and  carried  a  large  flexible  whip,  doubled 
for  convenience  in  the  hand.  He  showed  us  the  coffee 
plants,  the  broad  platforms  with  smooth  surfaces  of  cement 
and  raised  borders,  where  the  berries  were  dried  in  the  sun, 
and  the  mills  where  the  negroes  were  at  work  separating 
the  kernel  from  the  pulp  in  which  it  is  inclosed. 

"  These  coffee  estates,"  said  he,  "  are  already  ruined,  and 
the  planters  are  abandoning  them  as  fast  as  they  can ;  in 
four  years  more  there  will  not  be  a  single  coffee  plantation 
on  the  island.  They  can  not  afford  to  raise  coffee  for  the 
price  they  get  in  the  market." 

I  inquired  the  reason.  "  It  is,"  replied  he,  "  the  extreme 
22* 


378  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

dryness  of  the  season  when  the  plant  is  in  flower.  If  we 
have  rain  at  this  time  of  the  year,  we  are  sure  of  a  good 
crop  ;  if  it  does  not  rain,  the  harvest  is  small  ;  and  the  fail- 
ure of  rain  is  so  common  a  circumstance  that  we  must  leave 
the  cultivation  of  coffee  to  the  people  of  St.  Domingo  and 
Brazil." 

I  asked  if  the  plantation  could  not  be  converted  into  a 
sugar  estate. 

"Not  this,"  he  answered  ;•"  it  has  been  cultivated  too 
long.  The  land  was  originally  rich,  but  it  is  exhausted" — 
tired  out,  was  the  expression  he  used — "  we  may  cultivate 
maize  or  rice,  for  the  dry  culture  of  rice  succeeds  well  here, 
or  we  may  abandon  it  to  grazing.  At  present  we  keep  a 
few  negroes  here,  just  to  gather  the  berries  which  ripen, 
without  taking  any  trouble  to  preserve  the  plants,  or  replace 
those  which  die." 

I  could  easily  believe  from  what  I  saw  on  this  estate,  that 
there  must  be  a  great  deal  of  beauty  of  vegetation  in  a  well- 
kept  coffee  plantation,  but  the  formal  pattern  in  which  it  is 
disposed,  the  straight  alleys  and  rows  of  trees,  the  squares 
and  parallelograms,  showed  me  that  there  was  no  beauty 
of  arrangement.  We  fell  in,  before  we  returned  to  our  inn, 
with  the  proprietor,  a  delicate-looking  person,  with  thin 
white  hands,  who  had  been  educated  at  Boston,  and  spoke 
English  as  if  he  had  never  lived  anywhere  else.  His 
manners,  compared  with  those  of  his  steward,  were  exceed- 
ingly frosty  and  forbidding,  and  when  we  told  him  of  the 


NEAT     ATTIRE     OF     THE     CUBANS.  379 

civility  which  had  heen  shown  us,  his  looks  seemed  to  say 
he  wished  it  had  been  otherwise. 

Returning  to  our  inn,  we  dined,  and  as  the  sun  grew  low, 
we  strolled  out  to  look  at  the  town.  It  is  situated  on  a  clear 
little  stream,  over  which  several  bathing-houses  are  built, 
their  posts  standing  in  the  midst  of  the  current.  Above  the 
town,  it  flows  between  rocky  banks,  bordered  with  shrubs, 
many  of  them  in  flower.  Below  the  town,  after  winding  a 
little  way,  it  enters  a  cavern  yawning  in  the  limestone  rock, 
immediately  over  which  a  huge  ceyba  rises,  and  stretches 
its  leafy  arms  in  mid-heaven.  Down  this  opening  the  river 
throws  itself,  and  is  never  seen  again.  This  is  not  a  singu- 
lar instance  in  Cuba.  The  island  is  full  of  caverns  and  open- 
ings in  the  rocks,  and  I  am  told  that  many  of  the  streams  find 
subterranean  passages  to  the  sea.  There  is  a  well  at  the 
inn  of  La  Punta,  in  which  a  roaring  of  water  is  constantly 
heard.  It  is  the  sound  of  a  subterranean  stream  rushing 
along  a  passage  in  the  rocks,  and  the  well  is  an  opening  into 
its  roof. 

In  passing  through  the  town,  I  was  struck  with  the  neat 
attire  of  those  who  inhabited  the  humblest  dwellings.  At 
the  door  of  one  of  the  cottages,  I  saw  a  group  of  children,  of 
different  ages,  all  quite  pretty,  with  oval  faces  and  glittering 
black  eyes,  in  clean  fresh  dresses,  which,  one  would  think, 
could  scarcely  have  been  kept  a  moment  without  being 
soiled,  in  that  dwelling,  with  its  mud  floor.  The  people  of 
Cuba  are  sparing  in  their  ablutions  ;  the  men  do  not  wash 


380  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

their  faces  and  hands  till  nearly  mid-day,  for  fear  of 
spasms ;  and  of  the  women,  I  am  told  that  many  do  not 
wash  at  all,  contenting  themselves  with  rubbing  their 
cheeks  and  necks  with  a  little  aguardiente ;  but  the 
passion  for  clean  linen,  and,  among  the  men,  for  clean 
white  pantaloons,  is  universal.  The  montero  himself, 
on  a  holiday  or  any  public  occasion,  will  sport  a  shirt  of  the 
finest  linen,  smoothly  ironed,  and  stiffly  starched  throughout, 
from  the  collar  downward. 

The  next  day,  at  half-past  eleven,  we  left  our  inn,  which 
was  also  what  we  call  in  the  United  States  a  country  store, 
where  the  clerks  who  had  just  performed  their  ablutions  and 
combed  their  hair,  were  making  segars  behind  the  counter 
from  the  tobacco  of  the  Vuelta  Abajo,  and  returned  by  the" 
railway  to  Havana.  We  procured  travelling  licenses  at  the 
cost  of  four  dollars  and  a  half  each,  for  it  is  the  pleasure  of 
the  government  to  levy  this  tax  on  strangers  who  travel, 
and  early  the  following  morning  took  the  train  for  Ma- 
tanzas. 


ASPECT  OF  THE  COUNTRY.          381 


LETTER    XLVIII. 

MATANZAS. — VALLEY    OF     Y  U  M  U  R  I. 

Los  GUIXES,  April  18,  H49. 

IN  the  long  circuit  of  railway  which  leads  from  Havana  to 
Matanzas,  I  saw  nothing  remarkably  different  from  what  I 
observed  on  my  excursion  to  San  Antonio.  There  was  the 
same  smooth  country,  of  great  apparent  fertility,  sometimes 
varied  with  gentle  undulations,  and  sometimes  rising,  in  the 
distance,  into  hills  covered  with  thickets.  We  swept  by 
dark-green  fields  planted  with  the  yuca,  an  esculent  root, 
of  which  the  cassava  bread  is  made,  pale-green  fields  of  the 
cane,  brown  tracts  of  pasturage,  partly  formed  of  abandoned 
coffee  estates  where  the  palms  and  scattered  fruit-treer 
were  yet  standing,  and  forests  of  shrubs  and  twining  plants 
growing  for  the  most  part  among  rocks.  Some  of  these 
rocky  tracts  have  a  peculiar  appearance ;  they  consist  of 
rough  projections  of  rock  a  foot  or  two  in  height,  of  irregular 
shape  and  full  of  holes  ;  they  are  called  diente  de  perro,  or 
dog's  teeth.  Here  the  trees  and  creepers  find  openings 
filled  with  soil,  by  which  they  are  nourished.  We  passed 
two  or  three  country  cemeteries,  where  that  foulest  of  birds, 
the  turkey-vulture,  was  seen  sitting  on  the  white  stuccoed 


382  LETTERS     OF     A    TRAVELLER. 

walls,  or  hovering  on  his  ragged  wings  in  circles  over 
them. 

In  passing  over  the  neighborhood  of  the  town  in  which  I 
am  now  writing,  I  found  myself  on  the  black  lands  of  the 
island.  Here  the  rich  dark  earth  of  the  plain  lies  on  a  bed 
of  chalk  as  white  as  snow,  as  \vas  apparent  where  the 
earth  had  been  excavated  to  a  little  depth,  on  each  side  of 
the  railway,  to  form  the  causey  on  which  it  ran.  Streams 
of  clear  water,  diverted  from  a  river  to  the  left,  traversed 
the  plain  with  a  swift  current,  almost  even  with  the  surface 
of  the  soil,  which  they  keep  in  perpetual  freshness.  As  we 
approached  Matanzas,  we  saw  more  extensive  tracts  of 
cane  clothing  the  broad  slopes  with  their  dense  blades,  as 
if  the  coarse  sedge  of  a  river  had  been  transplanted  to  the 
uplands. 

At  length  the  bay  of  Matanzas  opened  before  us  ;  a  long 
tract  of  water  stretching  to  the  northeast,  into  which  several 
rivers  empty  themselves.  The  town  lay  at  the  southwestern 
extremity,  sheltered  by  hills,  where  the  San  Juan  and  the 
Yumuri  pour  themselves  into  the  brine.  It  is  a  small  but 
prosperous  town,  with  a  considerable  trade,  as  was  indicated 
by  the  vessels  at  anchor  in  the  harbor. 

As  we  passed  along  the  harbor  I  remarked  an  extensive, 
healthy-looking  orchard  of  plantains  growing  on  one  of  those 
tracts  which  they  call  diente  de  perro.  I  could  see  nothing 
but  the  jagged  teeth  of  whitish  rock,  and  the  green  swelling 
stems  of  the  plantain,  from  ten  to  fifteen  feet  in  height, 


THE     CUMBRE.  383 

and  as  large  as  a  man's  leg,  or  larger.  The  stalks  of  the 
plantain  are  juicy  and  herbaceous,  and  of  so  yielding  a 
texture,  that  v/ith  a  sickle  you  might  entirely  sever  the 
largest  of  them  at  a  single  stroke.  How  such  a  multitude 
of  succulent  plants  could  find  nourishment  on  what  seemed 
to  the  eye  little  else  than  barren  rock,  I  could  not  imagine. 

The  day  after  arriving  at  Matanzas  we  made  an  excursion 
on  horseback  to  the  summit  of  the  hill,  immediately  overlook- 
ing the  town,  called  the  Cumbre.  Light  hardy  horses  of 
the  country  were  brought  us,  with  high  pommels  to  the 
saddles,  which  are  also  raised  behind  in  a  manner  making 
it  difficult  to  throw  the  rider  from  his  seat.  A  negro  fitted 
a  spur  to  my  right  heel,  and  mounting  by  the  short  stirrups, 
I  crossed  the  river  Yumuri  with  my  companions,  and  began 
to  climb  the  Cumbre.  They  boast  at  Matanzas  of  the 
perpetual  coolness  of  temperature  enjoyed  upon  the  broad 
summit  of  this  hill,  where  many  of  the  opulent  merchants 
of  the  town  have  their  country  houses,  to  which  the  mos- 
quitoes and  the  intermittents  that  infest  the  town  below, 
never  come,  and  where,  as  one  of  them  told  me,  you  may 
play  at  billiards  in  August  without  any  inconvenient  per- 
spiration. 

From  the  Cumbre  you  behold  the  entire  extent  of  the 
harbor ;  the  town  lies  below  you  with  its  thicket  of  masts, 
and  its  dusty  paseo,  where  rows  of  the  Cuba  pine  stand 
rooted  in  the  red  soil.  On  the  opposite  shore  your  eye  is 
attracted  to  a  chasm  between  high  rocks,  where  the  river 


3b4  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

Canimar  comes  forth  through  banks  of  romantic  beauty  — 
so  they  are  described  to  me — and  mingles  with  the  sea. 
But  the  view  to  the  west  was  much  finer ;  there  lay  the 
valley  of  the  Yurnuri,  and  a  sight  of  it  is  worth  a  voyage  to 
the  island.  In  regard  to  this  my  expectations  suffered  no 
disappointment. 

Before  me  lay  a  deep  valley,  surrounded  on  all  sides  by 
hills  and  mountains,  with  the  little  river  Yumuri  twining  at 
the  bottom.  Smooth  round  hillocks  rose  from  the  side  next 
to  me,  covered  with  clusters  of  palms,  and  the  steeps  of  the 
southeastern  corner  of  the  valley  were  clothed  with  a  wood 
of  intense  green,  where  I  could  almost  see  the  leaves  glisten 
in  the  sunshine.  The  broad  fields  below  were  waving  with 
cane  and  maize,  and  cottages  of  the  monteros  were  scat- 
tered among  them,  each  with  its  tuft  of  bamboos  arid  its 
little  grove  of  plantains.  In  some  parts  the  cliffs  almost 
seemed  to  impend  over  the  valley  ;  but  to  the  west,  in  a 
soft  golden  haze,  rose  summit  behind  summit,  and  over 
them  all,  loftiest  and  most  remote,  towered  the  mountain 
called  the  Pan  de  Matanzas. 

We  stopped  for  a  few  moments  at  a  country  seat  on  the 
top  of  the  Cumbre,  where  this  beautiful  view  lay  ever  be- 
fore the  eye.  Round  it,  in  a  garden,  were  cultivated  the 
most  showy  plants  of  the  tropics,  but  my  attention  was 
attracted  to  a  little  plantation  of  damask  roses  blooming 
profusely.  They  were  scentless  ;  the  climate  which  sup- 
plies the  orange  blossom  with  intense  odors  exhausts  the 


G  II 1  N  Li  1  A  G      U  /     T  Ll  iJ     si  U  G  A  11  -  C  A  N  E  .  385 

fragrance  of  the  rose.  At  nightfall — the  night  falls  sud- 
denly in  this  latitude — we  were  again  at  our  hotel. 

We  passed  our  Sunday  on  a  sugar  estate  at  the  hospitable 
mansion  of  a  planter  from  the  United  States  about  fifteen 
miles  from  Matanzas.  The  house  stands  on  an  eminence, 
once  embowered  in  trees  which  the  hurricanes  have  lev- 
eled, overlooking  a  broad  valley,  where  palms  were  scat- 
tered in  every  direction  ;  for  the  estate  had  formerly  been 
a  coffee  plantation.  In  the  huge  buildings  containing  the 
machinery  and  other  apparatus  for  making  sugar,  which 
stood  at  the  foot  of  the  eminence,  the  power  of  steam, 
which  had  been  toiling  all  the  week,  was  now  at  rest.  As 
the  hour  of  sunset  approached,  a  smoke  was  seen  rising 
from  its  chimney,  presently  puffs  of  vapor  issued  from  the 
engine,  its  motion  began  to  be  heard,  and  the  negroes,  men 
and  women,  were  summoned  to  begin  the  work  of  the 
week.  Some  feed  the  fire  under  the  boiler  with  coal ; 
others  were  seen  rushing  to  the  mill  with  their  arms  full 
of  the  stalks  of  the  cane,  freshly  cut,  which  they  took  from 
a  huge  pile  near  the  building  ;  others  lighted  fires  under  a 
row  of  huge  cauldrons,  with  the  dry  stalks  of  cane  from 
which  the  juice  had  been  crushed  by  the  mill.  It  was  a 
spectacle  of  activity  such  as  I  had  riot  seen  in  Cuba. 

The  sound  of  the  engine  was  heard  all  night,  for  the 
work  of  grinding  the  cane,  once  begun,  proceeds  day  and 
night,  with  the  exception  of  Sundays  and  some  other  holi- 
days. I  was  early  next  morning  at  the  mill.  A  current 
33 


386  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

of  cane  juice  was  flowing  from  the  mill  in  a  long  trunk  to  a 
vat  in  which  it  was  clarified  with  lime ;  it  was  then  made 
to  pass  successively  from  one  seething  cauldron  to  another, 
as  it  obtained  a  thicker  consistence  by  boiling.  The  negroes, 
with  huge  ladles  turning  on  pivots,  swept  it  from  cauldron 
to  cauldron,  and  finally  passed  it  into  a  trunk,  which  conveyed 
it  to  shallow  tanks  in  another  apartment,  where  it  cooled 
into  sugar.  Prom  these  another  set  of  workmen  scooped  it 
up  in  moist  masses,  carried  it  in  buckets  up  a  low  flight  of 
stairs,  and  poured  it  into  rows  of  hogsheads  pierced  with 
holes  at  the  bottom.  These  are  placed  over  a  large  tank, 
into  which  the  moisture  dripping  from  the  hogsheads  is  col- 
lected and  forms  molasses. 

This  is  the  method  of  making  the  sugar  called  Muscovado. 
It  is  drained  a  few  days,  and  then  the  railways  take  it  to 
Matanzas  or  to  Havana.  We  visited  afterward  a  planta- 
tion in  the  neighborhood,  in  which  clayed  sugar  is  made. 
Our  host  furnished  us  with  horses  to  make  the  excursion,  and 
we  took  a  winding  road,  over  hill  and  valley,  by  plantations 
and  forests,  till  we  stopped  at  the  gate  of  an  extensive 
pasture-ground.  An  old  negro,  whose  hut  was  at  hand, 
opened  it  for  us,  and  bowed  low  as  we  passed.  A  ride  of 
half  a  mile  further  brought  us  in  sight  of  the  cane-fields  of 
the  plantation  ealled  Saratoga,  belonging  to  the  house  of 
Drake  &  Company,  of  Havana,  and  reputed  one  of  the  finest 
of  the  island.  It  had  a  different  aspect  from  any  plantation 
we  had  seen.  Trees  and  shrubs  there  were  none,  but  the 


MAKING     OF     CLAYED     SUGAR.  387 

canes,  except  where  they  had  been  newly  cropped  for  the 
mill,  clothed  the  slopes  and  hollows  with  their  light-green 
blades,  like  the  herbage  of  a  prairie. 

We  were  kindly  received  by  the  administrator  of  the 
estate,  an  intelligent  Biscayan,  who  showed  us  the  whole 
process  of  making  clayed  sugar.  It  does  not  differ  from 
that  of  making  the  Muscovado,  so  far  as  concerns  the  grind- 
ing and  boiling.  When,  however,  the  sugar  is  nearly  cool, 
it  is  poured  into  iron  vessels  of  conical  shape,  with  the  point 
downward,  at  which  is  an  opening.  The  top  of  the  sugar 
is  then  covered  with  a  sort  of  black  thick  mud,  which  they 
call  clay,  and  which  is  several  times  renewed  as  it  becomes 
dry.  The  moisture  from  the  clay  passes  through  the  sugar, 
carrying  with  it  the  cruder  portions,  which  form  molasses. 
In  a  few  days  the  draining  is  complete. 

We  saw  the  work-people  of  the  Saratoga  estate  preparing 
for  the  market  the  sugar  thus  cleansed,  if  we  may  apply  the 
word  to  such  a  process.  With  a  rude  iron  blade  they  cleft 
the  large  loaf  of  sugar  just  taken  from  the  mould  into  three 
parts,  called  first,  second,  and  third  quality,  according  to 
their  whiteness.  These  are  dried  in  the  sun  on  separate 
platforms  of  wood  with  a  raised  edge  ;  the  women  standing 
and  walking  over  the  fragments  with  their  bare  dirty  feet,  and 
beating  them  smaller  with  wooden  mallets  and  clubs.  The 
sugar  of  the  first  quality  is  then  scraped  up  and  put  into 
boxes ;  that  of  the  second  and  third,  being  moister,  is 
handled  a  third  time  and  carried  into  the  drying-room, 


388  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

where  it  is  exposed  to  the  heat  of  a  stove,  and  when  suffi- 
ciently dry,  is  boxed  up  for  market  like  the  other. 

The  sight  of  these  processes  was  not  of  a  nature  to  make 
one  think  with  much  satisfaction  of  clayed  sugar  as  an  in- 
gredient of  food,  but  the  inhabitants  of  the  island  are  supe- 
rior to  such  prejudices,  and  use  it  with  as  little  scruple  as 
they  who  do  not  know  in  what  manner  it  is  made. 

In  the  afternoon  we  returned  to  the  dwelling  of  our 
American  host,  and  taking  the  train  at  Caobas,  or  Ma- 
hogany Trees — so  called  from  the  former  growth  of  that 
tree  on  the  spot — we  were  at  Matanzas  an  hour  afterward. 
The  next  morning  the  train  brought  us  to  this  little  town, 
situated  half-way  between  Matanzas  and  Havana,  but  a 
•considerable  distance  to  the  south  of  either. 


THE     GAUROTE  389 


LETTER   XLIX. 

NEGROES  IN  CUB  A. — I NDIAN  SLAVES. 

HAVANA,  April  22,  1849. 

THE  other  day  when  we  were  at  Guines,  we  heard  that 
a  negro  was  to  suffer  death  early  the  next  morning  by  the 
garrote,  an  instrument  by  which  the  neck  of  the  criminal  is 
broken  and  life  extinguished  in  an  instant.  I  asked  our 
landlady  for  what  crime  the  man  had  been  condemned. 

"  He  has  killed  his  master,"  she  replied,  "  an  old  man,  in 
his  bed." 

"  Had  he  received  any  provocation  ?" 

"  Not  that  I  have  heard  ;  but  another  slave  is  to  be  put 
to  death  by  the  garrote  in  about  a  fortnight,  whose  offense 
had  some  palliation.  His  master  was  a  man  of  harsh  tem- 
per, and  treated  his  slaves  with  extreme  severity  ;  the  negro 
watched  his  opportunity,  and  shot  him  as  he  sat  at  table." 

We  went  to  the  place  of  execution  a  little  before  eight 
o'clock,  and  found  the  preparations  already  made.  A  plat- 
form had  been  erected,  on  which  stood  a  seat  for  the  pris- 
oner, and  back  of  the  seat  a  post  was  fixed,  with  a  sort  of 
iron  collar  for  his  neck.  A  screw,  with  a  long  transverse 
handle  on  the  side  of  the  post  opposite  to  the  collar,  was  so 
33* 


390  LETTERS     OF     A     THAVELLER. 

contrived  that,  when  it  was  turned,  it  would  push  forward 
an  iron  bolt  against  the  back  of  the  neck  and  crush  the 
spine  at  once. 

Sentinels  in  uniform  were  walking  to  and  fro,  keeping 
the  spectators  at  a  distance  from  the  platform.  The  heat 
of  the  sun  was  intense,  for  the  sea-breeze  had  not  yet  sprung 
up,  but  the  crowd  had  begun  to  assemble.  As  near  to  the 
platform  as  they  could  come,  stood  a  group  of  young  girls, 
two  of  whom  were  dressed  in  white  and  one  was  pretty, 
with  no  other  shade  for  their  dusky  faces  than  their  black 
veils,  chatting  and  laughing  and  stealing  occasional  glances 
at  the  new-comers.  In  another  quarter  were  six  or  eight 
monteros  on  horseback,  in  their  invariable  costume  of 
Panama  hats,  shirts  and  pantaloons,  with  holsters  to  their 
saddles,  and  most  of  them  with  swords  lashed  to  their 
sides. 

About  half-past  eight  a  numerous  crowd  made  its  appear- 
ance coming  from  the  town.  Among  them  walked  with  a 
firm  step,  a  large  black  man,  dressed  in  a  long  white  frock, 
white  pantaloons,  and  a  white  cap  with  a  long  peak  which 
fell  backward  on  his  shoulders.  He  was  the  murderer ; 
his  hands  were  tied  together  by  the  wrists  ;  in  one  of  them 
he  held  a  crucifix  ;  the  rope  by  which  they  were  fastened 
was  knotted  around  his  waist,  and  the  end  of  it  was  held  by 
another  athletic  negro,  dressed  in  blue  cotton  with  white 
facings,  who  walked  behind  him.  On  the  left  of  the 
criminal  walked  an  officer  of  justice;  on  his  right  an  eccle- 


EXECUTION     OF     A     NEGRO     CRIMINAL.  391 

siastic,  slender  and  stooping,  in  a  black  gown  and  a  black 
cap,  the  top  of  which  was  formed  into  a  sort  of  coronet, 
exhorting  the  criminal,  in  a  loud  voice  and  with  many  ges- 
ticulations, to  repent  and  trust  in  the  mercy  of  God. 

When  they  reached  the  platform,  the  negro  was  made  to 
place  himself  on  his  knees  before  it,  the  priest  continuing  his 
exhortations,  and  now  and  then  clapping  him,  in  an  encour- 
aging manner,  on  the  shoulder.  I  saw  the  man  shake  his 
head  once  or  twice,  and  then  kiss  the  crucifix.  In  the 
mean  time  a  multitude,  of  all  ages  and  both  sexes,  took 
possession  of  the  places  from  which  the  spectacle  could  be 
best  seen.  A  stone-fence,  such  as  is  common  in  our  coun- 
try, formed  of  loose  stones  taken  from  the  surface  of  the 
ground,  upheld  a  long  row  of  spectators.  A  well-dressed 
couple,  a  gentleman  in  white  pantaloons,  and  a  lady  ele- 
gantly attired,  with  a  black  lace  veil  and  a  parasol,  bring- 
ing their  two  children,  and  two  colored  servants,  took  their 
station  by  my  side — the  elder  child  found  a  place  on  the 
top  of  the  fence,  and  the  younger,  about  four  years  of  age, 
was  lifted  in  the  arms  of  one  of  the  servants,  that  it  might 
have  the  full  benefit  of  the  spectacle. 

The  criminal  was  then  raised  from  the  ground,  and 
•roing  up  the  platform  took  the  seat  ready  for  him.  The 
Driest  here  renewed  his  exhortations,  and,  at  length, 
'nrning  to  the  audience,  said,  in  a  loud  voice,  "I  believe 
in  God  Almighty  and  in  Jesus  Christ  his  only  Son,  and 
it  grieves  me  to  the  heart  to  have  offended  them."  These. 


W2  LETTERS    OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

words,  I  suppose,  were  meant,  as  the  confession  of  the 
criminal,  to  be  repeated  after  the  priest,  but  I  heard  no 
response  from  his  lips.  Again  and  again  the  priest  re- 
peated them,  the  third  time  with  a  louder  voi«e  than  ever  ; 
the  signal  was  then  given  to  the  executioner.  The  iron 
collar  was  adjusted  to  the  neck  of  the  victim,  and  fastened 
under  the  chin.  The  athletic  negro  in  blue,  standing 
behind  the  post,  took  the  handle  of  the  screw  and  turned 
it  deliberately.  After  a  few  turns,  the  criminal  gave  a 
sudden  shrug  of  the  shoulders  ;  another  turn  of  the  screw, 
;iud  a  shudder  ran  over  his  whole  frame,  his  eyes  rolled 
wildly,  his  hands,  still  tied  with  the  rope,  were  convul- 
-ively  jerked  upward,  and  then  dropped  back  to  their 
place  motionless  forever.  The  priest  advanced  and  turned 
ilie  peak  of  J,he  white  cap  over  the  face  to  hide  it  from  the 
;ight  of  the  multitude. 

I  had  nev.r  seen,  and  never  intended  to  see  an  execution, 
but  the  strangeness  of  this  manner  of  inflicting  death,  and 
the  desire  to  witness  the  behavior  of  an  assembly  of  the 
people  of  Cuba  on  such  an  occasion,  had  overcome  my 
previous  determination.  The  horror  of  the  spectacle  now 
caused  me  to  regret  that  I  made  one  of  a  crowd  drawn  to 
look  at  it  by  an  idle  curiosity. 

Tbv  negro  in  blue  then  stepped  forward  and  felt  the 
limbs  -jf  the  dead  man  one  by  one,  to  ascertain  whether  life 
were  wholly  extinct,  and  then  returning  to  the  screw,  gave 
it  two  or  three  turns  more,  as  if  to  make  his  work  sure.  In 


BEHAVIOR     OF     A     COLORED     BOY.  393 

the  mean  time  my  attention  was  attracted  by  a  sound  like 
that  of  a  light  buffet  and  a  whimpering  voice  near  me.  I 
looked,  and  two  men  were  standing  by  me,  with  a  little 
white  boy  at  their  side,  and  a  black  boy  of  nearly  the  same 
age  before  them,  holding  his  hat  in  his  hand,  and  crying 
They  were  endeavoring  to  direct  his  attention  to  what  they 
considered  the  wholesome  spectacle  before  him.  "  Mira, 
mira,  no  te  liar  a,  dano,"*  said  the  men,  but  the  boy  steadily 
refused  to  look  in  that  direction,  though  he  was  3vidently 
terrified  by  some  threat  of  punishment  and  his  eyes  filled 
with  tears.  Finding  him  obstinate,  they  desisted  from  their 
purpose,  and  I  was  quite  edified  to  see  the  little  fellow 
continue  to  look  away  from  the  spectacle  which  attracted 
all  other  eyes  but  his.  The  white  boy  now  came  forward, 
touched  the  hat  of  the  little  black,  and  goodnaturedly  saying 
"  pontelo,  pontelo,"^  made  him  put  it  on  his  head. 

The  crowd  now  began  to  disperse,  and  in  twenty 
minutes  the  place  was  nearly  solitary,  except  the  sentinels 
pacing  backward  and  forward.  Two  hours  afterward 
the  sentinels  were  pacing  there  yet,  and  the  dead  man, 
in  his  white  dress  and  iron  collar,  was  still  in  his  scat  on 
the  platform. 

It   is   generally  the  natives  of  Africa    by  whom  these 


*  "  Look,  look,  it  will  do  you  no  harm." 
f  "  Put  it  on,  put  it  on." 


394  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

murders  are  committed ;  the  negroes  born  in  the  country 
are  of  a  more  yielding  temper.  They  have  better  learned 
the  art  of  avoiding  punishment,  and  submit  to.  it  more 
patiently  when  inflicted,  having  understood  from  their 
birth  that  it  is  one  of  the  conditions  of  their  existence. 
The  whip  is  always  in  sight.  "  Nothing  can  be  done  with- 
out it,"  said  an  Englishman  to  me,  who  had  lived  eleven 
years  on  the  island,  "  you  can  not  make  the  negroes  work 
by  the  mild  methods  which  are  used  by  slaveholders  in  the 
United  States  ;  the  blacks  there  are  far  more  intelligent 
and  more  easily  governed  by  moral  means."  Africans,  the 
living  witnesses  of  the  present  existence  of  the  slave-trade, 
are  seen  everywhere  ;  at  every  step  you  meet  blacks  whose 
cheeks  are  scarred  with  parallel  slashes,  with  which  they 
were  marked  in  the  African  slave-market,  and  who  can  not 
even  speak  the  mutilated  Spanish  current  in  the  mouths  of 
the  Cuba  negroes. 

One  day  I  stood  upon  the  quay  at  Matanzas  and  saw  the 
slaves  unloading  the  large  lighters  which  brought  goods 
from  the  Spanish  ships  lying  in  the  harbor — casks  of  wine, 
jars  of  oil,  bags  of  nuts,  barrels  of  flour.  The  men  were 
naked  to  the  hips ;  their  only  garment  being  a  pair  of  trowsers. 
I  admired  their  ample  chests,  their  massive  shoulders,  the 
full  and  muscular  proportions  of  their  arms,  and  the  ease 
with  which  they  shifted  the  heavy  articles  from  place  to 
place,  or  carried  them  on  their  heads.  "  Some  of  these  are 
Africans  ?"  I  said  to  a  gentleman  who  resided  on  the  island. 


T  n  K    .- :,. A  v ;:  -  T  n  A  D  E  .  395 

"  They  are  all  Africans,"  he  answered,  "Africans  to  a  man ; 
the  negro  born  in  Cuba  is  of  a  lighter  make." 

When  I  was  at  Guines,  I  went  out  to  iook  at  a  sugar 
estate  in  the  neighborhood,  where  the  mill  was  turned  by 
water,  which  a  long  aqueduct,  from  one  of  the  streams  that 
traverse  the  plain,  conveyed  over  arches  of  stone  so  broad 
and  massive  that  I  could  not  help  thinking  of  the  aqueducts 
of  Rome.  A  gang  of  black  women  were  standing  in  the 
scoadero  or  drying-place,  among  the  lumps  of  clayed  sugar, 
beating  them  small  with  mallets  ;  before  them  walked  to 
and  fro  the  major-domo,  with  a  cutlass  by  his  side  and  a 
whip  in  his  hand.  I  asked  him  how  a  planter  could 
increase  his  stock  of  slaves.  "  There  is  no  difficulty,"  he 
replied,  "  slaves  are  still  brought  to  the  island  from  Africa. 
The  other  day  five  hundred  were  landed  on  the  sea-shore  to 
the  south  of  this  ;  for  you  must  know,  Senior,  that  we  are  but 
three  or  four  leagues  from  the  coast." 

"  Was  it  done  openly  ?"  I  inquired. 

"  Putticamcnte,  Senor,  iniblicamente  ;*  they  were  landed 
on  the  sugar  estate  of  El  Pastor,  and  one  hundred  and 
seven  more  died  on  the  passage  from  Africa." 

"Did  the  government  know  of  it  ?" 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Of  course  the  government 
knows  it,"  said  he  ;  "  every  body  else  knows  it." 

The  truth  is,  that  the  slave-trade  is  now  fully  revived ; 

*  "  Publicly,  sir,  publicly." 


39G  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

he  government  conniving  at  it,  making  a  profit  on  the 
slaves  imported  from  Africa,  and  screening  from  the  pursuit 
of  the  English  the  pirates  who  bring  them.  There 
scarcely  be  any  arrangement  of  coast  more  favorable  lor 
smuggling  slaves  into  a  country,  than  the  islands  and  long 
peninsulas,  and  many  channels  of  the  southern  shore  of 
<!uba.  Here  the  mangrove  thickets,  sending  down  roots 
into  the  brine  from  their  long  branches  that  stretch  over  the 
water,  form  dense  screens  on  each  side  of  the  passages  from 
the  main  ocean  to  the  inland,  and  render  it  easy  for  the 
-laver  and  his  boats  to  lurk  undiscovered  by  the  English 
n;en-of-war. 

During  the  comparative  cessation  of  the  slave-trade  a  few 
years  since,  the  negroes,  I  have  been  told,  were  much  better 
'  reated  than  before.  They  rose  in  value,  and  when  they 
died,  it  was  found  not  easy  to  supply  their  places  ;  they 
were  therefore  made  much  of,  and  every  thing  was  done 
which  it  was  thought  would  tend  to  preserve  their  health, 
and  maintain  them  in  bodily  vigor.  If  the  slave-trade 
should  make  them  cheap  again,  their  lives  of  course  will  be 
(if  less  consequence  to  their  owners,  and  they  will  be  sub- 
ject again  to  be  overtasked,  as  it  has  been  said  they  were 
before.  There  is  certainly  great  temptation  to  wear  them 
>ut  in  the  sugar  mills,  which  are  kept  in  motion  day  and 
light,  during  half  the  year,  namely,  through  the  dry  season. 
"  If  this  was  not  the  healthiest  employment  in  the  world," 
said  an  overseer  to  me  on  one  of  the  sugar  estates,  "  it 


INDIAN     AND     AS'ATIC     SLAVES.  397 

would  kill  us  all  who  are  engaged  in  it,  both  black  and 
white. ' 

Perhaps  you  may  not  know  that  more  than  half  of  the 
i-iuud  of  Cuba  has  never  been  reduced  to  tillage.  Immense 
tracts  of  the  rich  black  or  red  mould  of  the  island,  accumu- 
lated on  the  coral  rock,  are  yet  waiting  the  hand  of  the 
planter  to  be  converted  into  profitable  sugar  estates.  There 
is  a  demand,  therefore,  for  laborers  on  the  part  of  those  who 
wish  to  become  planters,  and  this  demand  is  supplied  not 
only  from  the  coast  of  Africa,  but  from  the  American  conti- 
nent and  southwestern  Asia. 

In  one  of  the  afternoons  of  Holy  Week,  I  saw  amid  the 
crowd  on  the  Plaza  de  Armas,  in  Havana,  several  men  of 
low  stature,  of  a  deep-olive  complexion,  beardless,  with  high 
cheek-bones  and  straight  black  hair,  dressed  in  white  panta- 
loons of  cotton,  and  shirts  of  the  same  material  worn  over 
them.  They  were  Indians,  natives  of  Yucatan,  who  had 
been  taken  prisoners  of  war  by  the  whites  of  the  country 
and  sold  to  white  men  in  Cuba,  under  a  pretended  contract 
to  serve  for  a  certain  number  of  years.  I  afterward  learned, 
that  the  dealers  in  this  sort  of  merchandise  were  also  bring- 
ing in  the  natives  of  Asia,  Chinese  they  call  them  here, 
though  I  doubt  whether  they  belong  to  that  nation,  and  dis- 
posing of  their  services  to  the  planters.  There  are  six  hun- 
dred of  these  people,  I  have  been  told,  in  this  city. 

Yesterday  appeared  in  the  Havana  papers  an  ordinance 
concerning  the  "Indians  and  Asiatics  imported  into  the 
34 


398  LETTERS    OP     A     TRAVELLER. 

country  under  a  contract  to  labor."  It  directs  how  much 
Indian  corn,  how  many  plantains,  how  much  jerked-pork 
and  rice  they  shall  receive  daily,  and  how  many  lashes  the 
master  may  inflict  for  misbehavior.  Twelve  stripes  with 
the  cowskin  he  may  administer  for  the  smaller  offenses,  and 
twenty-four  for  transgressions  of  more  importance  ;  but  if 
any  more  become  necessary,  he  must  apply  to  a  magistrate 
for  permission  to  lay  them  on.  Such  is  the  manner  in 
which  the  government  of  Cuba  sanctions  the  barbarity  of 
making  slaves  of  the  freeborn  men  of  Yucatan.  The  ordi 
nance,  however,  betrays  great  concern  for  the  salvation  of 
the  souls  of  those  whom  it  thus  delivers  over  to  the  lash 
of  the  slave-driver.  It  speaks  of  the  Indians  from  America, 
as  Christians  already,  but  while  it  allows  the  slaves  im- 
ported from  Asia  to  be  flogged,  it  directs  that  they  shall  be 
carefully  instructed  in  the  doctrines  of  our  holy  religion. 

Yet  the  policy  of  the  government  favors  emancipation. 
The  laws  of  Cuba  permit  any  slave  to  purchase  his  freedom 
on  paying  a  price  fixed  by  three  persons,  one  appointed  by 
his  master  and  two  by  a  magistrate.  He  may,  also,  if  he 
pleases,  compel  his  master  to  sell  him  a  certain  portion  of 
his  time,  which  he  may  employ  to  earn  the  means  of  pur- 
chasing his  entire  freedom. 

It  is  owing  to  this,  I  suppose,  that  the  number  of  free 
blacks  is  so  large  in  the  island,  and  it  is  manifest  that  if  the 
slave-trade  could  be  checked,  and  these  laws  remain  un- 
altered, the  negroes  would  gradually  emancipate  themselves 


FREE  BLACKS  IN  CUBA.  399 

— all  at  least  who  would  be  worth  keeping  as  servants. 
The^  population  of  Cuha  is  now  about  a  million  and  a 
quarter,  rather  more  than  half  of  whom  are  colored  per- 
sons, and  one  out  of  every  four  of  the  colored  population  is 
free.  The  mulattoes  emancipate  themselves  as  a  matter  of 
course,  arid  some  of  them  become  rich  by  the  occupations 
they  follow.  The  prejudice  of  color  is  by  no  means  so 
strong  here  as  in  the  United  States.  Five  or  six  years 
since  the  negroes  were  shouting  and  betting  in  the  cockpits 
with  the  whites  ;  but  since  the  mulatto  insurrection,  as  it 
is  called,  in  1843,  the  law  forbids  their  presence  at  such 
amusements.  I  am  told  there  is  little  difficulty  in  smug- 
gling people  of  mixed  blood,  by  the  help  of  legal  forms,  into 
the  white  race,  and  if  they  are  rich,  into  good  society,  pro- 
vided their  hair  is  not  frizzled. 

You  hear  something  said  now  and  then  in  the  United 
States  concerning  the  annexation  of  Cuba  to  our  con- 
federacy ;  you  may  be  curious,  perhaps,  to  know  what  they 
say  of  it  here.  A  European  who  had  long  resided  in  the 
island,  gave  me  this  account : 

"  The  Creoles,  no  doubt,  would  be  very  glad  to  see  Cuba 
annexed  to  the  United  States,  and  many  of  them  ardently 
desire  it.  It  would  relieve  them  from  many  great  burdens 
they  now  bear,  open  their  commerce  to  the  world,  rid  them 
of  a  tyrannical  government,  and  allow  them  to  manage  theii 
own  affairs  in  their  own  way.  But  Spain  derives  from  the 
possession  of  Cuba  advantages  too  great  to  be  relinquished. 


400  LETTERS    OF    A     TRAVELLER. 

She  extracts  from  Cuba  a  revenue  of  twelve  millions  of 
dollars  ;  her  government  sends  its  needy  nobility,  and^  all 
for  whom  it  would  provide,  to  fill  lucrative  offices  in  Cuba 
— the  priests,  the  military  officers,  the  civil  authorities, 
every  man  who  fills  a  judicial  post  or  holds  a  clerkship  is 
from  old  Spain.  The  Spanish  government  dares  not  give 
up  Cuba  if  it  were  inclined. 

"  Nor  will  the  people  of  Cuba  make  any  effort  to  eman- 
cipate themselves  by  taking  up  arms.  The  struggle  with 
the  power  of  Spain  would  be  bloody  and  uncertain,  even  if 
the  white  population  were  united,  but  the  mutual  distrust 
with  which  the  planters  and  the  peasantry  regard  each 
other,  would  make  the  issue  of  such  an  enterprise  still 
more  doubtful.  At  present  it  would  not  be  safe  for  a 
Cuba  planter  to  speak  publicly  of  annexation  to  the  United 
States.  He  would  run  the  risk  of  being  imprisoned  or 
exiled." 

Of  course,  if  Cuba  were  to  be  annexed  to  the  United 
States,  the  slave  trade  with  Africa  would  cease  to  be  carried 
on  as  now,  though  its  perfect  suppression  might  be  found 
difficult.  Negroes  would  be  imported  in  large  numbers 
from  the  United  States,  and  planters  would  emigrate  with 
them.  Institutions  of  education  would  be  introduced,  com- 
merce and  religion  would  both  be  made  free,  and  the 
character  of  the  islanders  would  be  elevated  by  the  respon- 
sibilities which  a  free  government  would  throw  upon  them. 
The  planters,  however,  would  doubtless  adopt  regulations 


ANNEXATION     OF     CUBA.  401 

insuring  the  perpetuity  of  slavery  ;  they  would  unquestion- 
ably, as  soon  as  they  were  allowed  to  frame  ordinances  for 
the  island,  take  away  the  facilities  which  the  present  laws 
give  the  slave  for  effecting  his  own  emancipation. 
34* 


402  LETTERS    OF     A     TRAVELLER. 


LETTER    L. 


ENGLISH    EXHIBITIONS    OF     WORKS    OF     ART. 

LONDON,  July  7,  1849. 

I  HAVE  just  been  to  visit  a  gallery  of  drawings  in  water 
colors,  now  open  for  exhibition.  The  English  may  be 
almost  said  to  have  created  this  branch  of  art.  Till  within 
a  few  years,  delineations  in  water-colors,  on  drawing  paper, 
have  been  so  feeble  and  meagre  as  to  be  held  in  little  es- 
teem, but  the  English  artists  havo  shown  that  as  much, 
though  in  a  somewhat  different  way,  may  be  done  on  draw- 
ing-paper as  on  canvas  ;  that  as  high  a  degree  of  expression 
may  bo  reached,  as  much  strength  given  to  the  coloring,  and 
as  much  boldness  to  the  lights  and  shadows.  In  the  col- 
lection of  which  I  speak,  are  about  four  hundred  drawings 
not  before  exhibited.  Those  which  appeared  to  me  the 
most  remarkable,  though  not  in  the  highest  department  "of 
art,  were  still-life  pieces  by  Hunt.  It  seems  to  me  impossi- 
ble to  carry  pictorial  illusion  to  a  higher  pitch  than  he  has 
attained.  A  sprig  of  hawthorn  flowers,  freshly  plucked,  lies 
before  you,  and  you  are  half-ternpfed  to  take  it  up  and  inhale 
its  fragrance  ;  those  speckled  eggs  in  the  bird's  nest,  you 
are  sure  you  might,  if  you  pleased,  take  into  your  hand  ; 


DRAWINGS     IN     W  A  T  E  R  -  C  O  L  O  R  S.  403 

that  tuft  of  ivy  leaves  and  buds  is  so  complete  an  optical 
deception,  that  you  can  hardly  believe  that  it  has  not  been 
attached  by  some  process  to  the  paper  on  which  you  see  it. 
A  servant  girl,  in  a  calico  gown,  with  a  broom,  by  the  same 
artist,  and  a  young  woman  standing  at  a  window,  at  which 
the  light  is  streaming  in,  are  as  fine  in  their  way,  and  as 
perfect  imitations  of  every-day  nature,  as  you  see  in  the 
works  of  the  best  Flemish  painters. 

It  is  to  landscape,  however,  that  the  artists  in  water- 
colors  have  principally  devoted  their  attention.  There  are 
several  very  fine  ones  in  the  collection  by  Copley  Fielding, 
the  foregrounds  drawn  with  much  strength,  the  distant  ob- 
jects softly  blending  with  the  atmosphere  as  in  nature,  and 
a  surprising  depth  and  transparency  given  to  the  sky. 
Alfred  Fripp  and  George  Fripp  have  also  produced  some 
very  fine  landscapes — mills,  waters  in  foam  or  sleeping  in 
pellucid  pools,  and  the  darkness  of  the  tempest  in  contrast 
with  gleams  of  sunshine.  Oakley  has  some  spirited  groups 
of  gipsies  and  country  people,  and  there  are  several  of  a 
similar  kind  by  Taylor,  who  designs  and  executes  with 
great  force.  One  of  the  earliest  of  the  new  school  of  artists 
in  water-colors  is  Prout,  whose  drawings  are  principally 
architectural,  and  who  has  shown  how  admirably  suited 
this  new  style  of  art  is  to  the  delineation  of  the  rich  carv- 
ings of  Gothic  churches.  Most  of  the  finer  pieces,  I  ob- 
served, were  marked  '  sold  ;'  they  brought  prices  varying 
from  thirty  to  fifty  guineas. 


404  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

There  is  an  exhibition  now  open  of  the  paintings  of  Etty, 
who  stands  high  in  the  world  of  art  as  an  historical  painter. 
The  "  Society  of  the  Arts" — I  believe  that  is  its  name — 
every  year  gets  up  an  exhibition  of  the  works  of  some  emi- 
nent painter,  with  the  proceeds  of  which  it  buys  one  of  his 
pictures,  and  places  it  in  the  National  Gallery.  This  is  a 
very  effectual  plan  of  forming  in  time  a  various  and  valuable 
collection  of  the  works  of  British  artists. 

The  greatest  work  of  Etty  is  the  series  representing  the 
Death  of  Holofernes  by  the  hand  of  Judith.  It  consists  of 
three  paintings,  the  first  of  which  shows  Judith  in  prayer 
before  the  execution  of  her  attempt ;  in  the  next,  and  the 
finest,  she  is  seen  standing  by  the  couch  of  the  heathen 
warrior,  with  the  sword  raised  to  heaven,  to  which  she 
turns  her  eyes,  as  if  imploring  supernatural  assistance  ;  and 
in  the  third,  she  appears  issuing  from  the  tent,  bearing  the 
head  of  the  ravager  of  her  country,  which  she  conceals  from 
the  armed  attendants  Avho  ^tand  on  guard  at  the  entrance, 
and  exhibits  to  her  astonished  handmaid,  who  has  been 
waiting  the  result.  The  subject  is  an  old  one,  but  Etty  has 
treated  it  in  a  new  way,  and  given  it  a  moral  interest, 
which  the  old  painters  seem  not  to  have  thought  of.  In 
the  delineation  of  the  naked  human  figure,  Etty  is  allowed 
to  surpass  all  the  English  living  artists,  and  his  manner  of 
painting  flesh  is  thought  to  be  next  to  that  of  Rubens.  His 
reputation  for  these  qualities  has  influenced  his  choice  of 
subjects  in  a  remarkable  manner.  The  walls  of  the  exhibi- 


EXHIBITION     OF     THE     ROYAL     ACADEMY.        405 

tiori  were  covered  with  Venuses  and  Eves,  Cupids  and 
Psyches,  and  nymphs  innocent  of  drapery,  reclining  on 
couches,  or  admiring  their  own  beauty  reflected  in  clear 
fountains.  I  almost  thought  myself  in  the  midst  of  a  collec- 
tion made  for  the  Grand  Seignior. 

The  annual  exhibition  of  the  Royal  Academy  is  now 
open.  Its  general  character  is  mediocrity,  unrelieved  by 
any  works  of  extraordinary  or  striking  merit.  There  are 
some  clever  landscapes  by  the  younger  Danbys,  and  one  by 
the  father,  which  is  by  no  means  among  his  happiest — a 
dark  picture,  which  in  half  a  dozen  years  will  be  one  mass 
of  black  paint.  Cooper,  almost  equal  to  Paul  Potter  as  a 
cattle  painter,  contributes  some  good  pieces  of  that  kind, 
and  one  of  them,  in  which  the  cattle  are  from  his  pencil, 
and  the  landscape  from  that  of  Lee,  appeared  to  me  the 
finest  thing  in  the  collection.  There  is,  however,  a  picture 
by  Leslie,  which  his  friends  insist  is  the  best  in  the  exhibition. 
It  represents  the  chaplain  of  the  Duke  leaving  the  table  in  a 
rage,  after  an  harangue  by  Don  Q,uixote  in  praise  of  knight- 
errantry.  The  suppressed  mirth  of  the  Duke  and  Duchess, 
the  sly  looks  of  the  servants,  the  stormy  anger  of  the 
ecclesiastic,  and  the  serene  gravity  of  the  knight,  are  well 
expressed ;  but  there  is  a  stiffness  in  some  of  the  figures 
which  makes  them  look  as  if  copied  from  the  wooden 
models  in  the  artist's  study,  and  a  raw  and  crude  appearance 
in  the  handling,  so  that  you  are  reminded  of  the  brush 
every  time  you  look  at  the  painting.  To  do  Leslie  justice, 


406  LETTERS    OF    J.     TRAVELLER. 

however,  his  paintings  ripen  wonderfully,  and  seem  to 
acquire  a  finish  with  years. 

If  one  wishes  to  form  an  idea  of  the  vast  numbers  of  in- 
different paintings  which  are  annually  produced  in  En- 
gland, he  should  visit,  as  I  did,  another  exhibition,  a  large 
gallery  lighted  from  above,  in  which  each  artist,  most 
of  them  of  the  younger  or  obscurer  class,  takes  a 
certain  number  of  feet  on  the  wall  and  exhibits  just  what 
he  pleases.  Every  man  is  his  own  hanging  committee,  and 
if  his  pictures  are  not  placed  in  the  most  advantageous 
position,  it  is  his  own  fault.  Here  acres  of  canvas  are  ex- 
hibited, most  of  which  is  spoiled  of  course,  though  here  arid 
there  a  good  picture  is  to  be  seen,  and  others  which  give 
promise  of  future  merit. 

Enough  of  pictures.  The  principal  subject  of  political 
discussion  since  I  have  been  in  England,  has  been  the 
expediency  oi  allowing  Jews  to  sit  in  Parliament.  You 
have  seen  by  what  a  large  majority  Baron  Rothschild  has 
been  again  returned  from  the  city  of  London,  after  his 
resignation,  in  spite  of  the  zealous  opposition  of  the  con- 
servatives. It  is  allowed,  I  think,  on  all  hands,  that  the 
majority  of  the  nation  are  in  favor  of  allowing  Jews  to  hold 
seats  in  Parliament,  but  the  other  side  urge  the  inconsist- 
ency of  maintaining  a  Christian  Church  as  a  state  institu- 
tion, and  admitting  the  enemies  of  Christianity  to  a  share 
in  its  administration.  Public  opinion,  however,  is  so 
strongly  against  political  disabilities  on  account  of  religious 


.TKWS     IN     PARLIAMENT.  407 

faith,  that  with  the  aid  of  the  ministry,  it  will,  no  doubt, 
triumph,  and  we  shall  see  another  class  of  adversaries  of 
the  Establishment  making  war  upon  it  in  the  House  of 
Commons.  Nor  will  it  bs  at  all  surprising  if,  after  a  little 
while,  we  hear  of  Jewish  barons,  earls,  and  marquises  in 
the  House  of  Peers.  Rothschild  himself  may  become  the 
founder  of  a  noble  line,  opulent  beyond  the  proudest  of  them 
all. 

The  protectionist  party  here  are  laboring  to  persuade  the 
people  that  the  government  have  committed  a  great  error, 
in  granting  such  liberal  conditions  to  the  trade  of  other 
nations,  to  the  prejudice  of  British  industry.  They  do  not, 
however,  seem  to  make  much  impression  on  the  public 
mind.  The  necessaries  of  life  are  obtained  at  a  cheaper 
rate  than  formerly,  and  that  satisfies  the  people.  Peel  has 
been  making  a  speech  in  Parliament  on  the  free-trade 
question,  which  I  often  hear  referred  to  as  a  very  able 
argument  for  the  free-trade  policy.  Neither  on  this  ques- 
tion nor  on  that  of  the  Jewish  disabilities,  do  the  oppo- 
sition seem  to  have  the  country  with  them. 


408  LETTERS    OF     A    TRAVELLER. 


LETTER    LI. 

A    VISIT    TO    THE     SHETLAND    ISLES. 

ABERDEEN,  July  19,  1849. 

Two  days  ago  I  was  in  the  Orkneys ;  the  day  before  I 
was  in  the  Shetland  Isles,  the  "  farthest  Thule"  of  the  Ro- 
mans, where  I  climbed  the  Noup  of  the  Noss,  as  the  fa- 
mous headland  of  the  island  of  Noss  is  called,  from  which 
you  look  out  upon  the  sea  that  lies  between  Shetland  and 
Norway. 

From  Wick,  a  considerable  fishing  town  in  Caithness,  on 
the  northern  coast  of  Scotland,  a  steamer,  named  the 
dueen,  departs  once  a  week,  in  the  summer  months,  for 
Kirkwall,  in  the  Orkneys,  and  Lerwick,  in  Shetland.  We 
went  on  board  of  her  about  ten  o'clock  on  the  14th  of  July. 
The  herring  fishery  had  just  begun,  and  the  artificial  port 
of  Wick,  constructed  with  massive  walls  of  stone,  was 
crowded  with  fishing  vessels  which  had  returned  that  morn- 
ing from  the  labors  of  the  night ;  for  in  the  herring  fishery 
it  is  only  in  the  night  that  the  nets  are  spread  and  drawn. 
Many  of  the  vessels  had  landed  their  cargo  ;  in  others  the 
fishermen  were  busily  disengaging  the  herrings  from  the 
black  nets  and  throwing  them  in  heaps  ;  and  now  and  then 


HIGHLAND     FISHERMEN.  409 

a  boat  later  than  the  rest,  was  entering  from  the  sea.  The 
green  heights  all  around  the  bay  were  covered  with  groups 
of  women,  sitting  or  walking,  dressed  for  the  most  part  in 
caps  and  white  short  gowns,  waiting  for  the  arrival  of  the 
boats  manned  by  their  husbands  and  brothers,  or  belonging 
to  the  families  of  those  who  had  come  to  seek  occupation  as 
fishermen.  I  had  seen  two  or  three  of  the  principal  streets 
of  Wick  that  morning,  swarming  with  strapping  fellows,  in 
blue  highland  bonnets,  with  blue  jackets  and  pantaloons, 
and  coarse  blue  flannel  shirts.  A  shopkeeper,  standing  at 
his  door,  instructed  me  who  they  were. 

"  They  are  men  of  the  Celtic  race,"  he  said — the  term 
Celtic  has  grown  to  be  quite  fashionable,  I  find,  when  ap- 
plied to  the  Highlanders.  "  They  came  from  the  Hebrides 
and  other  parts  of  western  Scotland,  to  get  employment  in 
the  herring  fishery.  These  people  have  travelled  perhaps 
three  hundred  miles,  most  of  them  on  foot,  to  be  employed 
six  or  seven  weeks,  for  which  they  will  receive  about  six 
pounds  wages.  Those  whom  you  see  are  not  the  best  of 
their  class ;  the  more  enterprising  and  industrious  have 
boats  of  their  own,  and  carry  on  the  fishery  on  their  own 
account." 

We  found  the  Q,ueen  a  strong  steamboat,  with  a  good 
cabin  and  convenient  state-rooms,  but  dirty,  and  smelling  of 
fish  from  stem  to  stern.  It  has  seemed  to  me  that  the  fur- 
ther north  I  went,  the  more  dirt  I  found.  Our  qaptain  was 
an  old  Aberdeen  seaman,  with  a  stoop  in  his  shoulders,  and 
35 


410  LETTERS     OF     A     TR.AVELLER. 

looked  as  if  he  was  continually  watching  for  land,  an  occu- 
pation for  which  the  foggy  climate  of  these  latitudes  gives 
him  full  scope.  We  left  Wick  bstween  eleven  and  twelve 
o'clock  in  the  forenoon,  and  glided  over  a  calm  sea,  with  a 
cloudless  sky  above  us,  and  a  thin  haze  on  the  surface  of 
the  waters.  The  haze  thickened  to  a  fog,  which  grew 
more  and  more  dense,  and  finally  closed  overhead.  After 
about  three  hours  sail,  the  captain  began  to  grow  uneasy, 
and  was  seen  walking  about  on  the  bridge  between  the 
wheel-houses,  anxiously  peering  into  the  mist,  on  the  look- 
out for  the  coast  of  the  Orkneys.  At  length  he  gave  up  the 
search,  and  stopped  the  engine.  The  passengers  amused 
themselves  with  fishing.  Several  coal-fish,  a  large  fish  of 
slender  shape,  were  caught,  and  one  fine  cod  was  hauled 
up  by  a  gentleman  who  united  in  his  person,  as  he  gave 
me  to  understand,  the  two  capacities  of  portrait-painter  and 
preacher  of  the  gospel,  and  who  held  that  the  universal 
church  of  Christendom  had  gone  sadly  astray  from  the  true 
primitive  doctrine,  in  regard  to  the  time  when  the  millen- 
nium is  to  take  place. 

The  fog  cleared  away  in  the  evening ;  our  steamer  was 
again  in  motion  ;  we  landed  at  Kirkwall  in  the  middle  of 
the  night,  and  when  I  went  on  deck  the  next  morning,  we 
were  smoothly  passing  the  shores  of  Fair  Isle — high  and 
steep  rocks,  impending  over  the  waters  with  a  covering  of 
green  turf.  Before  they  were  out  of  sight  we  saw  the 
Shetland  coast,  the  dark  rock  of  Sumburgh  Head,  and  be- 


L  E  R  VV I C  K.  411 

hind  it,  half  shrouded  in  mist,  the  promontory  of  Fitfiel 
Head, — Fitful  Head,  as  it  is  called  by  Scott,  in  his  novel  of 
the  Pirate.  Beyond,  to  the  east,  black  rocky  promontories 
came  in  sight,  one  after  the  other,  beetling  over  the  sea. 
At  ten  o'clock,  we  were  passing  through  a  channel  be- 
tween the  islands  leading  to  Lerwick,  the  capital  of  Shet- 
land, on  the  principal  island  bearing  the  name  of  Main- 
land. Fields,  yellow  with  flowers,  among  which  stood 
here  and  there  a  cottage,  sloped  softly  down  to  the  water, 
and  beyond  them  rose  the  bare  declivities  and  summits  of 
the  hills,  dark  with  heath,  with  here  and  there  still  darker 
spots,  of  an  almost  inky  hue,  where  peat  had  been  cut  for 
fuel.  Not  a  tree,  not  a  shrub  was  to  be  seen,  and  the 
greater  part  of  the  soil  appeared  never  to  have  been  reduced 
to  cultivation. 

About  one  o'clock  we  cast  anchor  before  Lerwick,  a 
fishing  village,  built  on  the  shore  of  Bressay  Sound,  which 
here  forms  one  of  the  finest  harbors  in  the  world.  It  has 
two  passages  to  the  sea,  so  that  when  the  wind  blows  a 
storm  on  one  side  of  the  islands,  the  Shetlander  in  his  boat 
passes  out  in  the  other  direction,  and  finds  himself  in  com- 
paratively smooth  water.  It  was  Sunday,  and  the  man 
who  landed  us  at  the  quay  and  took  our  baggage  to  our 
lodging,  said  as  he  left  us — 

"It's  the  Sabbath,  and  I'll  no  tak'  my  pay  now,  but  I'll 
call  the  morrow.  My  name  is  Jim  Sinclair,  pilot,  and  if 
ye'll  be  wanting  to  go  anywhere,  I'll  be  glad  to  tak'  ye  in 


412  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

my  boat."  In  a  few  minutes  we  were  snugly  established  at 
our  lodgings.  There  is  no  inn  throughout  all  the  Shetland 
Islands,  which  contain  about  thirty  thousand  inhabitants, 
but  if  any  of  my  friends  should  have  occasion  to  visit  Ler- 
wick,  I  can  cheerfully  recommend  to  them  the  comfortable 
lodging-house  of  Mrs.  Walker,  who  keeps  a  little  shop  in  the 
principal  street,  not  far  from  dueen's  lane.  We  made  haste 
to  get  ready  for  church,  and  sallied  out  to  find  the  place  of 
worship  frequented  by  our  landlady,  which  was  not  a  dif- 
ficult matter. 

The  little  town  of  Lerwick  consists  of  two-story  houses, 
built  mostly  of  unhewn  stone,  rough-cast,  with  steep  roofs 
and  a  chimney  at  each  end.  They  are  arranged  along  a 
winding  street  parallel  with  the  shore,  and  along  narrow 
lanes  running  upward  to  the  top  of  the  hill.  The  main 
street  is  flagged  with  smooth  stones,  like  the  streets  in 
Venice,  for  no  vehicle  runs  on  wheels  in  the  Shetland  islands. 
We  went  up  Q,ueen's  lane  and  soon  found  the  building  occu- 
pied by  the  Free  Church  of  Scotland,  until  a  temple  of  fairer 
proportions,  on  which  the  masons  are  now  at  work,  on  the 
top  of  the  hill,  shall  be  completed  for  their  reception.  It 
was  crowded  with  attentive  worshipers,  one  of  whom 
obligingly  came  forward  and  found  a  seat  for  us.  The 
minister,  Mr.  Frazer,  had  begun  the  evening  service,  and 
was  at  prayer.  When  I  entered,  he  was  speaking  of 
"  our  father  the  devil  ;"  but  the  prayer  was  followed  by  an 
earnest,  practical  discourse,  though  somewhat  crude  in  the 


CHURCH-GOERS     IN     SHETLAND.  413 

composition,  and  reminding  me  of  an  expression  I  once  heard 
used  by  a  distinguished  Scotchman,  who  complained  that 
the  clergy  of  his  country,  in  composing  their  sermons,  too 
often  "  mak'  rough  wark  of  it." 

I  looked  about  among  these  descendants  of  the  Norwegians, 
but  could  not  see  any  thing  singular  in  their  physiognomy  ; 
and  but  for  the  harsh  accent  of  the  preacher,  I  might 
almost  have  thought  myself  in  the  midst  of  a  country 
congregation  in  the  United  States.  They  are  mostly  of  a 
light  complexion,  with  an  appearance  of  health  and  strength, 
though  of  a  sparer  make  than  the  people  of  the  more 
southern  British  isles.  After  the  service  was  over,  we 
returned  to  our  lodgings,  by  a  way  which  led  to  the  top  of 
the  hill,  and  made  the  circuit  of  the  little  town.  The  paths 
leading  into  the  interior  of  the  island",  were  full  of  people 
returning  homeward  ;  the  women  in  their  best  attire,  a  few 
in  silks,  with  wind-tanned  faces.  We  saw  them  disappearing, 
one  after  another,  in  the  hollows,  or  over  the  dark  bare  hill- 
tops. With  a  population  of  less  than  three  thousand  souls, 
Lerwick  has  four  places  of  worship — a  church  of  the  Estab- 
lishment, a  Free  church,  a  church  for  the  Seceders,  and  one 
for  the  Methodists.  The  road  we  took  commanded  a  fine 
view  of  the  harbor,  surrounded  and  sheltered  by  hills. 
Within  it  lay  a  numerous  group  of  idle  fishing- vessels,  with 
one  great  steamer  in  the  midst ;  and  more  formidable  in 
appearance,  a  Dutch  man-of-war,  sent  to  protect  the  Dutch 
fisheries,  with  the  flag  of  Holland  flying  at  the  mast-head. 
35* 


414  LETTERS    OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

Above  the  town,  on  tall  poles,  were  floating  the  flags  of  four 
or  five  different  nations,  to  mark  the  habitation  of  their 
consuls. 

On  the  side  opposite  to  the  harbor,  lay  the  small  fresh- 
water lake  of  Cleikimin,  with  the  remains  of  a  Pictish  castle 
in  the  midst ;  one  of  those  circular  buildings  of  unhewn, 
uncemented  stone,  skillfully  laid,  forming  apartments  and 
galleries  of  such  small  dimensions  as  to  lead  Sir  Walter 
Scott  to  infer  that  the  Picts  were  a  people  of  a  stature  con- 
siderably below  the  ordinary  standard  of  the  human  race. 
A  deep  Sabbath  silence  reigned  over  the  scene,  except  the 
sound  of  the  wind,  which  here  never  ceases  to  blow  from 
one  quarter  or  another,  as  it  swept  the  herbage  and  beat 
against  the  stone  walls  surrounding  the  fields.  The  ground 
under  our  feet  was  thick  with  daisies  and  the  blossoms  of 
the  crow-foot  and  other  flowers  ;  for  in  the  brief  summer  of 
these  islands,  nature,  which  has  no  groves  to  embellish, 
makes  amends  by  pranking  the  ground,  particularly  in  the 
uncultivated  parts,  with  a  great  profusion  and  variety  of 
flowers. 

The  next  morning  we  were  rowed,  by  two  of  Jim 
Sinclair's  boys,  to  the  island  of  Bressay,  and  one  of  them 
acted  as  our  guide  to  the  remarkable  precipice  called  the 
Noup  of  the  Noss.  We  ascended  its  smooth  slopes  and 
pastures,  and  passed  through  one  or  two  hamlets,  where  we 
observed  the  construction  of  the  dwellings  of  the  Zetland 
peasantry.  They  are  built  of  unhewn  stone,  with  roofs  of 


HABITATIONS     OF     THE     ISLANDERS.  415 

turf  held  down  by  ropes  of  straw  neatly  twisted  ;  the  floors 
are  of  earth  ;  the  cow,  pony,  and  pig  live  under  the  same 
roof  with  the  family,  and  the  manure  pond,  a  receptacle  for 
refuse  and  filth,  is  close  to  the  door.  A  little  higher  up  we 
came  upon  the  uncultivated  grounds,  abandoned  to  heath, 
and  only  used  to  supply  fuel  by  the  cutting  of  peat.  Here  and 
there  women  were  busy  piling  the  square  pieces  of  peat  in 
stacks,  that  they  might  dry  in  the  wind.  "  We  carry  home 
these  pits  in  a  basket  on  our  showlders,  when  they  are  dry," 
said  one  of  them  to  me  ;  but  those  who  can  afibrd  to  keep  a 
pony,  make  him  do  this  work  for  them.  In  the  hollows 
of  this  part  of  the  island  we  saw  several  fresh-water  ponds, 
which  were  enlarged  with  dykes  and  made  to  turn  grist 
mills.  We  peeped  into  one  or  two  of  these  mills,  little 
stone  buildings,  in  which  we  could  hardly  stand  upright, 
inclosing  two  small  stones  turned  by  a  perpendicular  shaft, 
in  which  are  half  a  dozen  cogs;  the  paddles  are  fixed 
below,  and  there  struck  by  the  water,  turn  the  upper  stone. 
A  steep  descent  brought  us  to  the  little  strait,  bordered 
with  rocks,  which  divides  Brassey  from  the  island  called  the 
Noss.  A  strong  south  wind  was  driving  in  the  billows 
from  the  sea  with  noise  and  foam,  but  they  were  broken 
and  checked  by  a  bar  of  rocks  in  the  middle  of  the  strait, 
and  we  crossed  to  the  north  of  it  in  smooth  water.  The 
ferryman  told  us  that  when  the  wind  was  northerly  he 
crossed  to  the  south  of  the  bar.  As  we  climbed  the  hill  of 
the  Noss  the  mist  began  to  drift  thinly  around  us  from  the 


116  LETTKRrf     OF     A     TUAVliLLEU. 

sea,  and  flocks  of  sea-birds  rose  screaming  from  the  ground 
at  our  approach.  At  length  we  stood  upon  the  brink  of  a 
precipice  of  fearful  height,  from  which  we  had  a  full  view 
of  the  still  higher  precipices  of  the  neighboring  summit. 
A  wall  of  rock  was  before  us  six  hundred  feet  in  height, 
descending  almost  perpendicularly  to  the  sea,  which  roared 
and  foamed  at  its  base  among  huge  masses  of  rock,  and 
plunged  into  great  caverns,  hollowed  out  by  the  beating  of 
the  surges  for  centuries.  Midway  on  the  rock,  and  above 
the  reach  of  the  spray,  were  thousands  of  sea-birds,  sitting 
in  ranks  on  the  numerous  shelves,  or  alighting,  or  taking 
wing,  and  screaming  as  they  flew.  A  cloud  of  them  were 
constantly  in  the  air  in  front  of  the  rock  and  over  our  heads. 
Here  they  make  their  nests  and  rear  their  young,  but  not 
entirely  safe  from  the  pursuit  of  the  Zetlander,  who  causes 
himself  to  be  let  down  by  a  rope  from  the  summit  and 
plunders  their  nests.  The  face  of  the  rock,  above  the  por 
lion  which  is  the  haunt  of  the  birds,  was  fairly  tapestried 
with  herbage  and  flowers  which  the  perpetual  moisture  of 
the  atmosphere  keeps  always  fresh — daisies  nodding  in  the 
wind,  and  the  crimson  phlox,  seeming  to  set  the  cliffs  on 
flarne  ;  yellow  buttercups,  and  a  variety  of  other  plants  in 
bloom,  of  which  I  do  not  know  the  name. 

Magnificent  as  this  spectacle  was,  we  were  not  satisfied 
without  climbing  to  the  summit.  As  we  passed  upward, 
we  saw  where  the  rabbits  had  made  their  burrows  in  the 
iv/jstic  peat-like  soil  close  to  the  very  edge  of  the  precipice. 


THE     CRADLE     OF     THE     NOSS.  417 

We  now  found  ourselves  involved  in  the  cold  streams  of 
mist  which  the  strong  sea-wind  was  drifting  over  us  ;  they 
were  in  fact  the  lower  skirts  of  the  clouds.  At  times  they 
would  clear  away  and  give  us  a  prospect  of  the  green  island 
summits  around  us,  with  their  bold  headlands,  the  winding 
straits  between,  and  the  black  rocks  standing  out  in  the  sea. 
When  we  arrived  at  the  summit  we  could  hardly  stand 
against  the  wind,  but  it  was  almost  more  difficult  to  muster 
courage  to  look  down  that  dizzy  depth  over  which  the  Zet- 
landers  suspend  themselves  with  ropes,  in  quest  of  the  eggs 
of  the  sea-fowl.  My  friend  captured  a  young  gull  on  the 
summit  of  the  Noup.  The  bird  had  risen  at  his  approach, 
and  essayed  to  fly  towards  the  sea,  but  the  strength  of  the 
wind  drove  him  back  to  the  land.  He  rose  again,  but  could 
not  sustain  a  long  flight,  and  coming  to  the  ground  again, 
was  caught,  after  a  spirited  chase,  amidst  a  wild  clamor  of 
of  the  sea-fowl  over  our  heads. 

Not  far  from  the  Noup  is  the  Holm,  or,  as  it  is  sometimes 
called,  the  Cradle  or  Basket,  of  the  Noss.  It  is  a  perpen- 
dicular mass  of  rock,  two  or  three  hundred  feet  high,  with  a 
broad  flat  summit,  richly  covered  with  grass,  and  is  sep- 
arated from  the  island  by  a  narrow  chasm,  through  which 
the  sea  flows.  Two  strong  ropes  are  stretched  from  the 
main  island  to  the  top  of  the  Holm,  and  on  these  is  slung 
the  cradle  or  basket,  a  sort  of  open  box  made  of  deal  boards, 
in  which  the  shepherds  pass  with  their  sheep  to  the  top  of 
the  Holm.  We  found  the  cradle  strongly  secured  by  lock 


418  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

and  key  to  the  stakes  on  the  side  of  the  Noss,  in  order,  no 
doubt,  to  prevent  any  person  from  crossing  for  his  own 
amusement. 

As  we  descended  the  smooth  pastures  of  the  Noss,  we 
fell  in  with  a  herd  of  ponies,  of  a  size  somewhat  larger  than 
is  common  on  the  islands.  I  asked  our  guide,  a  lad  of  four- 
teen years  of  age,  what  was  the  average  price  of  a  sheltie. 
*Iis  answer  deserves  to  he  written  in  letters  of  gold — 

"  It's  jist  as  they're  bug  an'  smal'." 

From  the  ferryman,  at  the  strait  below,  I  got  mor* 
specific  information.  They  vary  in  price  from  three  to  te*. 
pounds,  but  the  latter  sum  is  only  paid  for  the  finest  of 
these  animals,  in  the  respects  of  shape  and  color.  It  is  not 
a  little  remarkable,  that  the  same  causes  which,  in  Shet- 
land, have  made  the  horse  the  smallest  of  ponies,  have 
almost  equally  reduced  the  size  of  the  cow.  The  sheep, 
also — a  pretty  creature,  I  might  call  it — from  the  fine  wool 
of  which  the  Shetland  women  knot  the  thin  webs  known 
by  the  name  of  Shetland  shawls,  is  much  smaller  than  any 
breed  I  have  ever  seen.  Whether  the  cause  be  the  per- 
petual chilliness  of  the  atmosphere,  or  the  insufficiency  of 
nourishment — for,  though  the  long  Zetland  winters  are 
temperate,  and  snow  never  lies  long  on  the  ground,  there 
is  scarce  any  growth  of  herbage  in  that  season — I  will  not 
undertake  to  say,  but  the  people  of  the  islands  ascribe  it  to 
the  insufficiency  of  nourishment.  It  is,  at  all  events,  re- 


PICTISH     CASTLE.  419 

markable,  that  the  traditions  of  the  country  should  ascribe 
to  the  Picts,  the  early  inhabitants  of  Shetland,  the  same 
dwarfish  stature,  and  that  the  numerous  remains  of  their 
habitations  which  still  exist,  should  seem  to  confirm  the 
tradition.  The  race  which  at  present  possesses  the  Shet- 
lands  is,  however,  of  what  the  French  call  "  an  advan- 
tageous stature,"  and  well  limbed.  If  it  be  the  want  of  a 
proper  and  genial  warmth,  which  prevents  the  due  growth 
of  the  domestic  animals,  it  is  a  want  to  which  the  Zet- 
landers  are  not  subject.  Their  hills  afford  the  man  appa- 
rantly  inexhaustible  supply  of  peat,  which  costs  the  poorest 
man  nothing  but  the  trouble  of  cutting  it  and  bringing  it 
home ;  and  their  cottages,  I  was  told,  are  always  well 
warmed  in  winter. 

In  crossing  the  narrow  strait  which  separates  the  Noss 
from  Bressay,  I  observed  on  the  Bressay  side,  overlooking  the 
water,  a  round  hillock,  of  very  regular  shape,  in  which  the 
green  turf  was  intermixed  with  stones.  "  That,"  said  the 
ferryman,  "  is  what  we  call  a  Pictish  castle.  I  mind  when 
it  was  opened  ;  it  was  full  of  rooms,  so  that  ye  could  go  over 
every  part  of  it."  I  climbed  the  hillock,  and  found,  by 
inspecting  several  openings,  which  had  been  made  by  the 
peasantry  to  take  away  the  stones,  that  below  the  turf  it 
was  a  regular  work  of  Pictish  masonry,  but  the  spiral 
galleries,  which  these  openings  revealed,  had  been  com- 
pletely choked  up,  in  taking  away  the  materials  of  which 
they  were  built.  Although  plenty  of  stone  may  be  found 


420          LETTERS'  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 

everywhere  in  the  islands,  there  seems  to  be  a  disposition  to 
plunder  these  remarkable  remains,  for  the  sake  of  building 
cottages,  or  making  those  inclosures  for  their  cabbages, 
which  the  islanders  call  crubs.  They  have  been  pulling 
down  the  Pictish  castle,  on  the  little  island  in  the  fresh- 
water loch  called  (Jleikimin,  near  Lerwick,  described  with 
such  minuteness  by  Scott  in  his  journal,  till  very  few  traces 
of  its  original  construction  are  left.  If  the  inclosing  of  lands 
for  pasturage  and  cultivation  proceeds  as  it  has  begun,  these 
curious  monuments  of  a  race  which  has  long  perished,  will 
disappear. 

Now  that  we  were  out  of  hearing  of  the  cries  of  the  sea- 
birds,  we  were  regaled  with  more  agreeable  sounds.  We  had 
set  out,  as  we  climbed  the  island  of  Bressay,  amid  a  perfect 
chorus  of  larks,  answering  each  other  in  the  sky,  and  some- 
times, apparently,  from  the  clouds  ;  and  now  we  heard  them 
again  overhead,  pouring  out  their  sweet  notes  so  fast  and  so 
ceaselessly,  that  it  seemed  as  if  the  little  creatures  imagined 
they  had  more  to  utter,  than  they  had  time  to  utter  it  in. 
In  no  part  of  the  British  Islands  have  I  seen  the  larks  so 
numerous  or  so  merry,  as  in  the  Shetlands. 

We  waited  awhile  at  the  wharf  by  the  minister's  house 
in  Bressay,  for  Jim  Sinclair,  who  at  length  appeared  in  his 
boat  to  convey  us  to  Lerwick.  "  He  is  a  noisy  fallow,"  said 
our  good  landlady,  and  truly  we  found  him  voluble  enough, 
but  quite  amusing.  As  he  rowed  us  to  town  he  gave  us  a 
sample  of  his  historical  knowledge,  talking  of  Sir  Walter 


THE     ZETLANDERS.  421 

Raleigh  and  the  settlement  of  North  America,  and  told  us 
that  his  greatest  pleasure  was  to  read  historical  hooks  in 
the  long  winter  nights.  His  children,  he  said,  could  all 
read  and  write.  We  dined  on  a  leg  of  Shetland  mutton, 
with  a  tart  made  "  of  the  only  fruit  of  the  Island"  as  a 
Scotchman  called  it,  the  stalks  of  the  rhubarb  plant,  and 
went  on  board  of  our  steamer  about  six  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon. It  was  matter  of  some  regret  to  us  that  we  were 
obliged  to  leave  Shetland  so  soon.  Two  or  three  days  more 
might  have  been  pleasantly  passed  among  its  grand  preci- 
pices, its  winding  straits,  its  remains  of  a  remote  and  rude 
antiquity,  its  little  horses,  little  cows,  and  little  sheep,  its 
sea-fowl,  its  larks,  its  flowers,  and  its  hardy  and  active 
people.  There  was  an  amusing  novelty  also  in  going  to 
bed,  as  we  did,  by  daylight,  for  at  this  season  of  the  year, 
the  daylight  is  never  out  of  the  sky,  and  the  flush  of  early 
sunset  only  passes  along  the  horizon  from  the  northwest  to 
the  northeast,  where  it  brightens  into  sunrise. 

The  Zetlanders,  I  was  told  by  a  Scotch  clergyman,  who 
had  lived  among  them  forty  years,  are  naturally  shrewd  and 
quick  of  apprehension  ;  "  as  to  their  morals,"  he  added,  "  if 
ye  stay  among  them  any  time  ye'll  be  able  to  judge  for 
yourself."  So,  on  the  point  of  morals,  I  am  in  the  dark. 
More  attention,  I  hear,  is  paid  to  the  education  of  their 
children  than  formerly,  and  all  have  the  opportunity  of  learn- 
ing to  read  and  write  in  the  parochial  schools.  Their  agri- 
culture is  still  very  rude,  they  are  very  unwilling  to  adopt 
36 


422  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

the  instruments  of  husbandry  used  in  England,  but  on  the 
whole  they  are  making  some  progress.  A  Shetland  gentle- 
man, who,  as  he  remarked  to  me,  had  "  had  the  advantage 
of  seeing  some  other  countries"  besides  his  own,  complained 
that  the  peasantry  were  spending  too  much  of  their  earnings 
for  tea,  tobacco,  and  spirits.  Last  winter  a  terrible  famine 
came  upon  the  islands  ;  their  fisheries  had  been  unproduc 
tive,  and  the  potato  crop  had  been  cut  off  by  the  blight. 
The  communication  with  Scotland  by  steamboat  had  ceased, 
as  it  always  does  in  winter,  and  it  was  long  before  the 
sufferings  of  the  Shetlanders  were  known  in  Great  Britain, 
but  as  soon  as  the  intelligence  was  received,  contributions 
were  made  and  the  poor  creatures  were  relieved. 

Their  climate,  inhospitable  as  it  seems,  is  healthy,  and 
they  live  to  a  good  old  age.  A  native  of  the  island,  a 
baronet,  who  has  a  great  white  house  on  a  bare  field  in 
sight  of  Lerwick,  and  was  a  passenger  on  board  the  steamer 
in  which  we  made  our  passage  to  the  island,  remarked  that 
if  it  was  not  the  healthiest  climate  in  the  world,  the  ex- 
tremely dirty  habits  of  the  peasantry  would  engender 
disease,  which,  however,  was  not  the  case.  "  It  is,  probably, 
the  effect  of  the  saline  particles  in  the  air,"  he  added.  His 
opinion  seemed  to  be  that  the  dirt  was  salted  by  the  sea- 
winds,  and  preserved  from  further  decomposition.  I  was 
somewhat  amused,  in  hearing  him  boast  of  the  climate  of 
Shetland  in  winter.  "  Have  you  never  observed"  said  he, 
turning  to  the  old  Scotch  clergyman  of  whom  I  have 


A     GALE     IN     THE     NORTH     SEA.  423 

already  spoken,  "  how  much  larger  the  proportion  of  sunny 
days  is  in  our  islands  than  at  the  south  ?"  "I  have  never 
observed  it,"  was  the  dry  answer  of  the  minister." 

The  people  of  Shetland  speak  a  kind  of  Scottish,  but  not 
with  the  Scottish  accent.  Four  hundred  years  ago,  when 
the  islands  were  transferred  from  Norway  to  the  British 
crown,  their  language  was  Norse,  but  that  tongue,  al- 
though some  of  its  words  have  been  preserved  in  the  pres- 
ent dialect,  has  become  extinct.  "  I  have  heard,"  said  an 
intelligent  Shetlander  to  me,  "that  there  are  yet,  perhaps, 
half  a  dozen  persons  in  one  of  our  remotest  neighborhoods, 
who  are  able  to  speak  it,  but  I  never  met  with  one  who 
could." 

In  returning  from  Lerwick  to  the  Orkneys,  we  had  a 
sample  of  the  weather  which  is  often  encountered  in  these 
latitudes.  The  wind  blew  a  gale  in  the  night,  and  our 
steamer  was  tossed  about  on  the  waves  like  an  egg-shell, 
much  to  the  discomfort  of  the  passengers.  We  had  on 
board  a  cargo  of  ponies,  the  smallest  of  which  were  from 
the  Shetlands,  some  of  them  not  much  larger  than  sheep, 
and  nearly  as  shaggy ;  the  others,  of  larger  size,  had  been 
brought  from  the  Faro  Isles.  In  the  morning,  when  the 
gale  had  blown  itself  to  rest,  I  went  on  deck  and  saw  one 
of  the  Faro  Island  ponies,  which  had  given  out  during  the 
night,  stretched  dead  upon  the  deck.  I  inquired  if  the  body 
was  to  be  committed  to  the  deep.  "  It  is  to  be  skinned 
first,"  was  the  answer. 


424  LETTERS    OF    A     TRAVELLER. 

We  stopped  at  Kirkwall  in  the  Orkneys,  long  enough  to 
allow  us  to  look  at  the  old  cathedral  of  St.  Magnus,  built 
early  in  the  twelfth  century — a  venerable  pile,  in  perfect 
preservation,  and  the  finest  specimen  of  the  architecture 
once  called  Saxon,  then  Norman,  and  lately  Romanesque, 
that  I  have  ever  seen.  The  round  arch  is  everywhere  used, 
except  in  two  or  three  windows  of  later  addition.  The 
nave  is  narrow,  and  the  central  groined  arches  are  lofty  ;  so 
that  an  idea  of  vast  extent  is  given,  though  the  cathedral 
is  small,  compared  with  the  great  minsters  in  England. 
The  work  of  completing  certain  parts  of  the  building 
which  were  left  unfinished,  is  now  going  on  at  the  expense 
of  the  government.  All  the  old  flooring,  and  the  pews, 
which  made  it  a  parish  church,  have  been  taken  away, 
and  the  original  proportions  and  symmetry  of  the  building 
are  seen  as  they  ought  to  be.  The  general  effect  of  the 
building  is  wonderfully  grand  and  solemn. 

On  our  return  to  Scotland,  we  stopped  for  a  few  hours  at 
Wick.  It  was  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  the  fishermen,  in 
their  vessels,  were  going  out  of  the  harbor  to  their  nightly 
toil.  Vessel  after  vessel,  each  manned  with  four  stout 
rowers,  came  out  of  the  port — and  after  rowing  a  short 
distance,  raised  their  sails  and  steered  for  the  open  sea,  till 
all  the  waters,  from  the  land  to  the  horizon,  were  full  of 
them.  I  counted  them,  hundreds  after  hundreds,  till  J 
grew  tired  of  the  task.  A  sail  of  ten  or  twelve  hours 
brought  us  to  Aberdeen,  with  its  old  cathedral,  encumbered 


ABERDEEN.  425 

by  pews  and  wooden  partitions,  and  its  old  college,  the 
tower  of  which  is  surmounted  by  a  cluster  of  flying  but- 
tresses, formed  into  the  resemblance  of  a  crown. 

This  letter,  you  perceive,  is  dated  at  Aberdeen.  It  was 
begun  there,  but  I  have  written  portions  of  it  at  different 
times  since  I  left  that  city,  and  I  beg  that  you  will  imagine 
it  to  be  of  the  latest  date.  It  is  now  long  enough,  I  fear, 
to  tire  your  readers,  and  I  therefore  lay  down  my  pen. 
36* 


426  LETTERS     OF     A     TRA.   'ELLER. 


LETTER  LI  I. 

EUROPE  UNDER  THE  BAYONET. 

PARIS,  September  13,  1849. 

WHOEVER  should  visit  the  principal  countries  of  Europe 
at  the  present  moment,  might  take  them  for  conquered 
provinces,  held  in  subjection  by  their  victorious  masters,  at 
the  point  of  the  sword.  Such  was  the  aspect  which 
France  presented  when  I  came  to  Paris  a  few  weeks  since. 
The  city  was  then  in  what  is  called,  by  a  convenient  fiction, 
a  state  of  siege ;  soldiers  filled  the  streets,  were  posted  in 
every  public  square  and  at  every  corner,  were  seen  march- 
ing before  the  churches,  the  cornices  of  which  bore  the 
inscription  of  Liberty,  Equality,  and  Fraternity,  keeping 
their  brethren  quiet  by  the  bayonet.  I  have  since  made  a 
journey  to  Bavaria  and  Switzerland,  and  on  returning  I  find 
the  siege  raised,  and  these  demonstrations  of  fraternity  less 
formal,  but  the  show  and  the  menace  of  military  force  are 
scarcely  less  apparent.  Those  who  maintain  that  France 
is  not  fit  for  liberty,  need  not  afflict  themseves  with  the  idea 
that  there  is  at  present  more  liberty  in  France  than  her 
people  know  how  to  enjoy. 


USES     OF     THE     STATE     OF     SIEGE.  427 

On  my  journey,  I  found  the  cities  along  the  Rhine 
crowded  with  soldiers  ;  the  sound  of  the  drum  was  heard 
among  the  hills  covered  with  vines  ;  women  were  trundling 
loaded  wheel-barrows,  and  carrying  panniers  like  asses,  to 
earn  the  taxes  which  are  extorted  to  support  the  men  who 
stalk  about  in  uniform.  I  entered  Heidelberg  with  antici- 
pations of  pleasure  ;  they  were  dashed  in  a  moment ;  the 
city  was  in  a  state  of  siege,  occupied  by  Prussian  troops 
which  had  been  sent  to  take  the  part  of  the  Grand  Duke  of 
Baden  against  his  people.  I  could  hardly  believe  that  this 
was  the  same  peaceful  and  friendly  city  which  I  had  known 
in  better  times.  Every  other  man  in  the  streets  was  a 
soldier ;  the  beautiful  walks  about  the  old  castle  were  full 
of  soldiers ;  in  the  evening  they  were  reeling  through  the 
streets.  "  This  invention,"  said  a  German  who  had  been  a 
member  of  the  Diet  of  the  Confederation  lately  broken  up, 
"  this  invention  of  declaring  a  city,  which  has  uncondition- 
ally submitted,  to  be  still  in  a  state  of  siege,  is  but  a  device 
to  practice  the  most  unbounded  oppression.  Any  man  who 
is  suspected,  or  feared,  or  disliked,  or  supposed  not  to  ap- 
prove of  the  proceedings  of  the  victorious  party,  is  arrested 
and  imprisoned  at  pleasure.  He  may  be  guiltless  of  any 
offense  which  could  be  made  a  pretext  for  condemning  him, 
but  his  trial  is  arbitrarily  postponed,  and  when  at  last  he  is 
seleased,  he  has  suffered  the  penalty  of  a  long  confinement, 
and  is  taught  how  dangerous  it  is  to  become  obnoxious  to 
the  government." 
' 


428 


LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 


From  Heidelberg,  thus  transformed,  I  was  glad  to  take  my 
departure  as  soon  as  possible.  Our  way  from  that  city  to 
Heilbronn,  was  through  a  most  charming  country  along  the 
valley  of  the  Neckar.  Here  were  low  hills  and  valleys  rich 
with  harvests,  a  road  embowered  in  fruit-trees,  the  branches 
of  which  were  propped  with  stakes  to  prevent  them  from 
breaking  with  their  load,  and  groves  lying  pleasantly  in  the 
morning  sunshine,  where  ravens  were  croaking.  Birds  of 
worse  omen  than  these  were  abroad,  straggling  groups,  and 
sometimes  entire  companies  of  soldiers,  on  their  way  from 
one  part  of  the  duchy  to  another  ;  while  in  the  fields, 
women,  prematurely  old  with  labor,  were  wielding  the  hoe 
and  the  mattock,  and  the  younger  and  stronger  of  their  sex 
were  swinging  the  scythe.  In  all  the  villages  through  which 
we  passed,  in  the  very  smallest,  troops  were  posted,  and  men 
in  military  uniform  were  standing  at  the  doors,  or  looking 
from  the  windows  of  every  inn  and  beer-house. 

At  Heilbronn  we  took  the  railway  for  Stuttgart,  the 
capital  of  Wurtemberg.  There  was  a  considerable  propor- 
tion of  men  in  military  trappings  among  the  passengers, 
but  at  one  of  the  stations  they  came  upon  us  like  a  cloud, 
and  we  entered  Stuttgart  with  a  little  army.  That  city, 
too,  looked  as  if  in  a  state  of  siege,  so  numerous  were  the 
soldiery,  though  the  vine-covered  hills,  among  which  it  is 
situated,  could  have  given  them  a  better  occupation.  The 
railway,  beyond  Stuttgart,  wound  through  a  deep  valley 
and  ended  at  G-eisslingen,  an  ancient  Swabian  town,  in  a 


SYMPATHY  WITH  THE  HUNGARIANS.     429 

gorge  of  the  mountains,  with  tall  old  houses,  not  one  of 
which,  I  might  safely  affirm,  has  been  built  within  the  last 
two  hundred  years.  From  this  place  to  Ulm,  on  the 
Danube,  the  road  was  fairly  lined  with  soldiers,  walking  or 
resting  by  the  wayside,  or  closely  packed  in  the  peasants' 
wagons,  which  they  had  hired  to  carry  them  short  distances. 
At  Ulm  we  were  obliged  to  content  ourselves  with 
straitened  accommodations,  the  hotels  being  occupied  by  the 
gentry  in  epaulettes. 

I  hoped  to  see  fewer  of  this  class  at  the  capital  of 
Bavaria,  but  it  was  not  so  ;  they  were  everywhere  placed 
in  sight  as  if  to  keep  the  people  in  awe.  "  These  fellows," 
said  a  German  to  me,  "  are  always  too  numerous,  but  in 
ordinary  times  they  are  kept  in  the  capitals  and  barracks, 
and  the  nuisance  is  out  of  sight.  Now,  however,  the 
occasion  is  supposed  to  make  their  presence  necessary  in 
the  midst  of  the  people,  and  they  swarm  everywhere." 
Another,  it  was  our  host  of  the  Goldener  Hirsch,  said  to  m) 
friend,  "  I  think  I  shall  emigrate  to  America,  I  am  tired  of 
living  under  the  bayonet." 

I  was  in  Munich  when  the  n.^'s  arrived  of  the  surrendei 
of  the  Hungarian  troops  under  Gorgey,  and  the  fall  of  the 
Hungarian  republic.  All  along  my  journey  I  had  observed 
tokens  of  the  intense  interest  which  the  German  people  took 
in  the  result  of  the  struggle  between  Austria  and  the 
Magyars,  and  of  the  warmth  of  their  hopes  in  favor  of  the 
latter.  The  intelligence  was  received  with  the  deepest 

" 


430  LETTERS    OF    A    TRAVELLER 

sorrow.  "  So  perishes,"  said  a  Bavarian,  "  the  last  hope  of 
European  liberty." 

Our  journey  to  Switzerland  led  us  through  the  southern 
part  of  Bavaria,  among  the  old  towns  which  formed  a  part 
of  ancient  Swabia.  The  country  here,  in  some  respects,  re- 
sembles New  England ;  here  are  broad  woods,  large 
orchards  of  the  apple  and  pear,  and  scattered  farm-houses — 
of  a  different  architecture,  it  is  true,  from  that  of  the 
Yankees,  arid  somewhat  resembling,  with  their  far-project- 
ing eaves,  those  of  Switzerland.  Yet  there  was  a  further 
difference — everywhere,  men  were  seen  under  arms,  and 
women  at  the  plough. 

So  weary  had  I  grown  of  the  perpetual  sight  of  the 
military  uniform,  that  I  longed  to  escape  into  Switzerland, 
where  I  hoped  to  see  less  of  it,  and  it  was  with  great 
delight  that  I  found  myself  at  Lindau,  a  border  town  of 
Bavaria,  on  the  Bodensee,  or  Lake  of  Constance,  on  the 
shores  of  which  the  boundaries  of  four  sovereignties  meet. 
A  steamer  took  us  across  the  lake,  from  a  wharf  covered 
with  soldiers,  to  Roorschach,  in  Switzerland,  where  not  a 
soldier  was  to  be  seen.  Nobody  asked  for  our  passports, 
nobody  required  us  to  submit  our  baggage  to  search.  I 
could  almost  have  kneeled  and  kissed  the  shore  of  the 
hospitable  republic  ;  and  really  it  was  beautiful  enough  for 
such  a  demonstration  of  affection,  for  nothing  could  be 
lovelier  than  the  declivities  of  that  shore  with  its  woods  and 
orchards,  and  grassy  meadows,  and  green  hollows  running 


ST.     GALL.  431 

upward  to  the  mountain-tops,  all  fresh  with  a  shower 
which  had  just  passed  and  now  glittering  in  the  sunshine, 
and  interspersed  with  large  Swiss  houses,  bearing  quaintly- 
carved  galleries,  and  broad  overhanging  roofs,  while  to  the 
east  rose  the  glorious  summits  of  the  Alps,  mingling  with 
the  clouds. 

In  three  or  four  hours  we  had  climbed  up  to  St.  Gall — 
St.  Gallen,  the  Germans  call  it — situated  in  a  high  valley, 
among  steep  green  hills,  which  send  down  spurs  of  wood- 
land to  the  meadows  below.  In  walking  out  to  look  at  the 
town,  we  heard  a  brisk  and  continued  discharge  of  mus- 
ketry, and,  proceeding  in  the  direction  of  the  sound,  came  to 
a  large  field,  evidently  set  apart  as  a  parade-ground,  on 
which  several  hundred  youths  were  practicing  the  art  of 
war  in  a  sham  fight,  and  keeping  up  a  spirited  fire  at  each 
other  with  blank  cartridges.  On  inquiry,  we  were  told 
that  these  were  the  boys  of  the  schools  of  St.  Gall,  from 
twelve  to  sixteen  years  of  age,  with  whom  military  exercises 
were  a  part  of  their  education.  I  was  still,  therefore, 
among  soldiers,  but  of  a  different  class  from  those  of  whom 
I  had  seen  so  much.  Here,  it  was  the  people  who  were 
armed  for  self-protection  ;  there,  it  was  a  body  of  mer- 
cenaries armed  to  keep  the  people  in  subjection. 

Another  day's  journey  brought  us  to  the  picturesque  town 
of  Zurich,  and  the  next  morning  about  four  o'clock  I  was 
awakened  by  the  roll  of  drums  under  my  window.  Looking 
out,  I  saw  a  regiment  of  bo-s  of  a  tender  age,  inr  a  uniform 


432 


LETTERS    OF     A    TRAVELLER. 


of  brown  linen,  with  little  light  muskets  on  their  shoulders, 
and  miniature  knapsacks  on  their  backs,  completely  equipped 
and  furnished  for  war,  led  on  by  their  little  officers  in  regu- 
lar military  order,  marching  and  wheeling  to  the  sound  of 
martial  music  with  all  the  precision  of  veterans.  In  Swit- 
zerland arms  are  in  every  man's  hands  ;  he  is  educated  to 
be  a  soldier,  and  taught  that  the  liberties  of  his  country 
depend  on  his  skill  and  valor.  The  worst  effect,  perhaps  of 
this  military  education  is,  that  the  Swiss,  when  other 
means  of  subsistence  are  not  easily  found,  become  military 
adventurers  and  sell  their  services  to  the  first  purchaser. 
Meantime,  nobody  is  regarded  as  properly  fitted  for  his 
duties  as  a  member  of  the  state,  who  is  not  skilled  in  the  use 
of  arms.  Target-shooting,  Freischiessen,  is  the  national 
amusement  of  Switzerland,  and  has  been  so  ever  since  the 
days  of  Tell ;  occasions  of  target-shooting  are  prescribed 
and  superintended  by  the  public  authorities.  They  were 
practicing  it  at  the  stately  city  of  Berne  when  we  visited  it ; 
they  were  practicing  it  at  various  other  places  as  we  passed. 
Every  town  is  provided  with  a  public  shooting-ground  near 
.ts  gates. 

It  was  at  one  of  the  most  remarkable  of  these  towns :  it 
was  at  Freiburg,  Catholic  Freiburg,  full  of  Catholic  semina- 
ries and  convents,  in  the  churches  of  which  you  may  hear  the 
shrill  voices  of  the  nuns  chanting  matins,  themselves  unseen  ; 
it  was  at  Freiburg,  grandly  seated  on  the  craggy  banks  of 
her  rivers,  flowing  in  deep  gulfs,  spanned  by  the  loftiest  and 


F  u  E  1 1>  i:  i:  o .  433 

longest  chain-bridges  in  the  world,  that  I  saw  another  evi- 
dence of  the  fact  that  Switzerland  is  the  only  place  on  the 
continent  where  freedom  is  understood,  or  allowed  to  have 
an  existence.  A  proclamation  of  the  authorities  of  the 
canton  was  pasted  on  the  walls  and  gates,  ordaining  the 
16th  of  September  as  a  day  of  religious  thanksgiving. 
After  recounting  the  motives  of  gratitude  to  Providence ; 
after  speaking  of  the  abundance  of  the  harvests,  the  health 
enjoyed  throughout  Switzerland,  at  the  threshold  of  which 
the  cholera  had  a  second  time  been  stayed  ;  the  subsidence 
of  political  animosities,  and  the  quiet  enjoyment  of  the  ben- 
efits of  the  new  constitution  upon  which  the  country  had 
entered,  the  proclamation  mentioned,  as  a  special  reason  of 
gratitude  to  Almighty  God,  that  Switzerland,  in  this  day 
of  revolutions,  had  been  enabled  to  ofFer,  among  her  moun- 
tains, a  safe  and  unmolested  asylum  to  the  thousands  of 
fugitives  who  had  suffered  defeat  in  the  battles  of  freedom. 

1  could  not  help  contrasting  this  with  the  cruel  treatment 
shown  by  France  to  the  political  refugees  from  Baden  and 
other  parts  of  Germany.  A  few  days  before,  it  had  been 
announced  that  the  French  government  required  of  these 
poor  fellows  that  they  should  either  enlist  at  once  in  the  re- 
giments destined  for  service  in  Algiers,  or  immediately  leave 
the  country — offering  them  the  alternative  of  military 
slavery,  or  banishment  from  the  country  in  which  they  had 
hoped  to  find  a  shelter. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  practice  of  Switzerland  in  regard  to 
37 


434  LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 

passports,  an  example  which  it  does  not  suit  the  purpose  of 
the  French  politicians  to  follow.  Here,  and  all  over  the 
continent,  the  passport  system  is  as  strictly  and  vexatiously 
enforced  as  ever  It  is  remarkable  that  none  of  the  re- 
formers occupied  in  the  late  remodelling  of  European  insti- 
tutions, seerns  to  have  thought  of  abolishing 'this  invention 
of  despotism — this  restraint  upon  the  liberty  of  passing  from 
place  to  place,  which  makes  Europe  one  great  prison.  If 
the  people  had  been  accustomed  to  perfect  freedom  in  this 
respect,  though  but  a  short  time,  it  might  have  been  found 
difficult,  at  least  in  France,  to  reimpose  the  old  restraints. 
The  truth  is,  however,  that  France  is  not  quite  so  free  at 
present  as  she  was  under  Louis  Philippe.  The  only  advan- 
tage of  her  present  condition  is,  that  the  constitution  places 
in  the  hands  of  the  people  the  means  of  peaceably  perfecting 
their  liberties,  whenever  they  are  enlightened  enough  to 
claim  them. 

On  my  way  from  Geneva  to  Lyons  I  sat  in  the  banquette 
of  the  diligence  among  the  plebeians.  The  conversation 
happened  to  turn  on  politics,  and  the  expressions  of  hatred 
against  the  present  government  of  France,  which  broke  from 
the  conductor,  the  coachman,  and  the  two  passengers  by  my 
side,  were  probably  significant  of  the  feeling  which  prevails 
among  the  people.  "  The  only  law  now,"  said  one,  "  is  the 
law  of  the  sabre."  "The  soldiers  and  the  gens,  cTarmes 
have  every  thing  their  own  way  now,"  said  another,  "  but 
by  and  by  they  will  be  glad  to  hide  in  the  sewers."  The 


DISCONTENT     OF     T  II  E     FRENCH     PEOPLE.       435 

others  were  no  less  emphatic  in  their  expressions  of  anger 
and  detestation. 

The  expedition  to  Rome  is  unpopular  throughout  France, 
more  especially  so  in  the  southern  part  of  the  republic, 
where  the  intercourse  with  Rome  has  beeu  more  frequent, 
and  the  sympathy  with  her  people  is  stronger.  "  I  have 
never,"  said  an  American  friend,  who  has  resided  sometime 
in  Paris,  "  heard  a  single  Frenchman  defend  it."  It  is  un- 
popular, even  among  the  troops  sent  on  the  expedition,  as  is 
acknowledged  by  the  government  journals  themselves.  To 
propitiate  public  opinion,  the  government  has  changed  its 
course,  and  after  making  war  upon  the  Romans  to  establish 
the  pontifical  throne,  now  tells  the  Pope  that  he  must  submit 
to  place  the  government  in  the  hands  of  the  laity.  This 
change  of  policy  has  occasioned  a  good  deal  of  surprise  and 
an  infinite  deal  of  discussion.  Whatever  may  be  its  con- 
sequences, there  is  one  consequence  which  it  can  not  have, 
that  of  recovering  to  the  President  and  his  ministry  the 
popularity  they  have  lost. 


LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 


LETTER    LIII. 


VOLTERRA. 

[This  letter  was  casually  omitted  from  its  proper  place  near  the  beginning  of  the 
volume.] 

ROME,  April  15,  1835. 

TOWARDS  the  end  of  March  I  went  from  Pisa  to  Volterra. 
This  you  know  is  a  very  ancient  city,  one  of  the  strong- 
holds of  Etruria  when  Rome  was  in  its  cradle  ;  and,  in 
more  modem  times,  in  the  age  of  Italian  republics,  large 
enough  to  form  an  independent  community  of  considerable 
importance.  It  is  now  a  decayed  town,  containing  about 
four  thousand  inhabitants,  some  of  whom  are  families  of 
the  poor  and  proud  nobility  common  enough  over  all  Italy, 
who  are  said  to  quarrel  with  each  other  more  fiercely  in 
Volterra  than  almost  anywhere  else.  It  is  the  old  feud  of 
the  Montagues  and  the  Capulets  on  a  humbler  scale,  and 
the  disputes  of  the  Volterra  nobility  are  the  more  violent 
and  implacable  for  being  hereditary.  Poor  creatures  !  too 
proud  to  engage  in  business,  too  indolent  for  literature,  ex- 
cluded from  political  employments  by  the  nature  of  the 
government,  there  is  nothing  left  for  theqp  but  to  starve, 
intrigue,  and  quarrel.  You  may  judge  how  miserably  poor 


A     DESOLATK     K  KG  ION.  437 

they  are,  when  you  are  told  they  can  not  afford  even  to  cul- 
tivate the  favorite  art  of  modern  Italy ;  the  art  best  suited 
to  the  genius  of  a  soft  and  effeminate  people.  There  is,  I 
was  told,  but  one  pianoforte  in  the  whole  town,  and  that  is 
owned  by  a  Florentine  lady  who  has  recently  come  to  re- 
side here. 

For  several  miles  before  reaching  Volterra,  our  attention 
was  fixed  by  the  extraordinary  aspect  of  the  country 
through  which  we  were  passing.  The  road  gradually  as- 
cended, and  we  found  ourselves  among  deep  ravines  and 
steep,  high,  broken  banks,  principally  of  clay,  barren,  and 
in  most  places  wholly  bare  of  herbage,  a  scene  of  complete 
desolation,  were  it  not  for  a  cottage  here  and  there  perched 
upon  the  heights,  a  few  sheep  attended  by  a  boy  and  a  dog 
grazing  on  the  brink  of  one  of  the  precipices,  or  a  solitary 
patch  of  bright  green  wheat  in  some  spot  where  the  rains 
had  not  yet  carried  away  the  vegetable  mould. 

Imagine  to  yourself  an  elevated  country  like  the  high- 
lands of  Pennsylvania  or  the  western  part  of  Massachu- 
setts ;  imagine  vast  beds  of  loam  and  clay  in  place  of  the 
ledges  of  rock,  and  then  fancy  the  whole  region  to  be  torn 
by  water-spouts  and  torrents  into  gulleys  too  profound  to  be 
passed,  with  sharp  ridges  between — stripped  of  its  trees  and 
its  grass — and  you  will  have  some  idea  of  the  country  near 
Volterra.  I  could  not  help  fancying,  while  I  looked  at  it, 
that  as  the  earth  grew  old,  the  ribs  of  rock  which  once  up- 
held the  mountains,  had  become  changed  into  the  bare  heaps 
37* 


438 


LETTERS     OF     A     TRAVELLER. 


of  earth  which  I  saw  about  me,  that  time  and  the  elements 
had  destroyed  the  cohesion  of  the  particles  of  which  they  were 
formed,  and  that  now  the  rains  were  sweeping  them  down 
to  the  Mediterranean,  to  fill  its  bed  and  cause  its  waters  to 
encroach  upon  the  land.  It  was  impossible  for  me  to  pre- 
vent the  apprehension  from  passing  through  my  mind,  that 
such  might  be  the  fate  of  other  quarters  of  the  globe  in  ages 
yet  to  come,  that  their  rocks  must  crumble  and  their  moun- 
tains be  levelled,  until  the  waters  shall  again  cover  the  face 
of  the  earth,  unless  new  mountains  shall  be  thrown  up  by 
eruptions  of  internal  fire.  They  told  me  in  Volterra,  that 
this  frightful  region  had  once  been  productive  and  under 
cultivation,  but  that  after  a  plague  which,  four  or  five  hun- 
dred years  since,  had  depopulated  the  country,  it  was  aban- 
doned and  neglected,  and  the  rains  had  reduced  it  to  its 
present  state. 

In  the  midst  of  this  desolate  tract,  which  is,  however, 
here  and  there  interspersed  with  fertile  spots,  rises  the 
mountain  on  which  Volterra  is  situated,  where  the  inhab- 
itants breathe  a  pure  and  keen  atmosphere,  almost  perpet- 
ually cool,  and  only  die  of  pleurisies  and  apoplexies  ;  while 
below,  on  the  banks  of  the  Cecina,  which  in  full  sight  winds 
its  way  to  the  sea,  they  die  of  fevers.  One  of  the  ravines 
of  which  I  have  spoken, — the  balza  they  call  it  at  Volterra — 
has  ploughed  a  deep  chasm  on  the  north  side  of  this  moun- 
tain, and  is  every  year  rapidly  approaching  the  city  on  its 
summit.  I  stood  on  its  edge  and  looked  down  a  bank  of  soft 


THE     BALZA     AT     VOLTERRA.  430 

red  earth  five  hundred  feet  in  height.  A  few  rods  in  front  of 
me  I  saw  where  a  road  had  crossed  the  spot  in  which  the 
gulf  now  yawned*;  the  tracks  of  the  last  year's  carriages 
were  seen  reaching  to  the  edge  on  both  sides.  The  ruins  of 
a  convent  were  close  at  hand,  the  inmates  of  which,  two  or 
three  years  since,  had  been  removed  by  the  government  to 
the  town  for  safety.  These  will  soon  be  undermined  by  the 
advancing  chasm,  together  with  a  fine  piece  of  old  Etruscan 
wall,  once  inclosing  the  city,  built  of  enormous  uncemented 
parallelograms  of  stone,  and  looking  as  if  it  might  be  the 
work  of  the  giants  who  lived  before  the  flood  ;  a  neighboring 
church  will  next  fall  into  the  gulf,  which  finally,  if  means 
be  not  taken  to  prevent  its  progress,  will  reach  and  sap  the 
present  walls  of  the  city,  swallowing  up  what  time  has 
so  long  spared. 

"  A  few  hundred  crowns,"  said  an  inhabitant  of  Volterra 
to  me,  "  would  stop  all  this  mischief.  A  wall  at  the  bottom 
of  the  chasm,  and  a  heap  of  branches  of  trees  or  other  rub- 
bish, to  check  the  fall  of  the  earth,  are  all  that  would  be 
necessary." 

I  asked  why  these  means  were  not  used. 

"  Because,"  he  replied,  "  those  to  whom  the  charge  of 
these  matters  belongs,  will  not  take  the  trouble.  Some- 
body must  devise  a  plan  for  the  purpose,  and  somebody 
must  take  upon  himself  the  labor  of  seeing  it  executed. 
They  find  it  easier  to  put  it  off." 

The  antiquities  of  Volterra  consist  of  an  Etruscan  burial- 


440  LETTERS     OF     A     T  II  A  V  E  I,  I.  K  K. 

ground,  in  which  the  tombs  still  remain,  pieces  of  the  old 
and  incredibly  massive  Etruscan  wall,  including  a  far  larger 
circuit  than  the  present  city,  two  Etruscan  gates  of  imme- 
morial antiquity,  older  doubtless  than  any  thing  at  Rome, 
built  of  enormous  stones,  one  of  them  serving  even  yet 
as  an  entrance  to  the  town,  and  a  multitude  of  cin- 
erary vessels,  mostly  of  alabaster,  sculptured  with  numerous 
figures  in  alto  relievo.  These  figures  are  sometimes  alle- 
gorical representations,  and  sometimes  embody  the  fables  of 
the  Greek  mythology.  Among  them  are  some  in  the  most 
perfect  style  of  Grecian  art,  the  subjects  of  which  are  taken 
from  the  poems  of  Homer ;  groups  representing  the  be- 
siegers of  Troy  and  its  defenders,  or  Ulysses  with  his  com- 
panions and  his  ships.  I  gazed  with  exceeding  delight  on 
these  works  of  forgotten  artists,  who  had  the  verses  of 
Homer  by  heart — works  just  drawn  from  the  tombs  where 
they  had  been  buried  for  thousands  of  years,  and  looking  as 
if  fresh  from  the  chisel. 

We  had  letters  to  the  commandant  of  the  fortress,  an 
ancient-looking  stronghold,  built  by  the  Medici  family,  over 
which  we  were  conducted  by  his  adjutant,  a  courteous 
gentleman  with  a  red  nose,  who  walked  as  if  keeping  time 
to  military  music.  From  the  summit  of  the  tower  we  had 
an  extensive  and  most  remarkable  prospect.  It  was  the 
19th  day  of  March,  and  below  us,  the  sides  of  the  mountain, 
scooped  into  irregular  dells,  were  covered  with  fruit-trees 
just  breaking  into  leaf  and  flower.  Beyond  stretched  the 


THE     FORTRESS      AT     VOL  TERR  A.  441 

region  of  barrenness  1  have  already  described,  to  the  west 
of  which  lay  the  green  pastures  of  the  Maremma,  the  air  of 
which,  in  summer,  is  deadly,  and  still  further  west  were 
spread  the  waters  of  the  Mediterranean,  out  of  which  were 
seen  rising  the  mountains  of  Corsica.  To  the  north  and 
northeast  were  the  Appenines,  capped  with  snow,  embosom- 
ing the  fertile  lower  valley  of  the  Arno,  with  the  cities  of 
Pisa  and  Leghorn  in  sight.  To  the  south  we  traced  the 
windings  of  the  Cecilia,  and  saw  ascending  into  the  air  the 
smoke  of  a  hot-water  lake,  ajritated  perpetually  with  the 
escape  of  gas,  which  we  were  told  was  visited  by  Dante, 
and  from  which  he  drew  images  for  his  description  of  Hell. 
Some  Frenchman  has  now  converted  it  into  a  borax  manu- 
factory, the  natural  heat  of  the  water  serving  to  extract  the 
salt. 

The  fortress  is  used  as  a  prison  for  persons  guilty  of 
offenses  against  the  state.  On  the  top  of  the  tower  we 
passed  four  prisoners  of  state,  well-dressed  young  men,  who 
appeared  to  have  been  entertaining  themselves  with  music, 
having  guitars  and  other  instruments  in  their  hands.  They 
saluted  the  adjutant  as  he  went  by  them,  who,  in  return, 
took  off"  his  hat.  They  had  been  condemned  for  a  con- 
spiracy against  the  government. 

Jhe  commandant  gave  us  a  hospitable  reception.  In 
showing  us  the  fortress  he  congratulated  us  that  we  had 
no  occasion  for  such  engines  of  government  in  America. 
We  went  to  his  house  in  the  evening,  where  we  saw  his 


'142 


L  E  T  T  E  n  s   OF   A    T  n  .\  v E L  r. K  K. 


wife,  a  handsome  young  lady,  whom  lie  had  lately  brought 
from  Florence,  the  very  lady  of  the  pianoforte  whom  I  have 
already  mentioned,  and  the  mother  of  two  young  children, 
whose  ruddy  cheeks  and  chubby  figures  did  credit  to  the 
wholesome  air  of  Volterra.  The  commandant  made  tea  for 
rs  in  tumblers,  and  the  lady  gave  us  music.  The  tea  was 
so  strong  a  decoction  that  I  seemed  to  hear  the  music  all 
night,  and  had  no  need  of  being  waked  from  sleep,  when 
our  vetturino,  at  an  early  hour  the  next  morning,  came  to 
take  us  on  our  journey  to  Sienna. 


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